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1 h(‘ Old (Mty Gates, St. Augustine. 




































BRUNO 


BY 

BYRD SPILMAN DEWEY 


■Dfom lEMtion 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

CALVERT SMITH 


ATLANTA 

FOOTE AND DAVIES COMPANY 
1924 



Copyright , 1899,1908 and 1924 

By Byrd Spilman Dewey 


All rights reserved 


' s ansferred from 
Copy right Office 

rrs 25 


Pritttrra 

FOOTE «. DAVIES CO., ATLANTA 



THIS LITTLE SKETCH 
3b ifebfratri 

TO ALL WHO HAVE EVER LOVED ONE OF THOSE FAITHFUL 
CREATURES OF WHOM WE, IN OUR IGNORANCE 
AND VANITY, ARE WONT TO SPEAK AS 
“THE LOWER ANIMALS.” 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


The Old City Gates, St. Augustine 
“He was hissing at Bruno” 
Chasing Crabs and Sea-Birds 


Frontispiece 
. Page 62 
“ 111 




* 








BRUNO 


CHAPTER I 

"\I 7E do not count the first half-year of our 
* * married life, because, during that time 
we did not live, we boarded. 

Then we found we had developed a strong 
appetite for housekeeping, so we began to look 
about us for a house. 

In the small northern village where we must 
live, it was not possible to rent anything that 
suited us; so we decided to take what we could 
get until we could manage to build what we 
wanted. 

The house we took was one which had origi¬ 
nally been built out in the country, but the 
town had crept around it until it now seemed 
to be almost in the heart of the village. 

While we were furnishing and embellishing 
this our first home, was, I think, the most 
entirely happy time of our lives. 


1 



2 


BRUNO 


Julius often said, “I know now why the birds 
always sing so joyously when they are building 
their nests.” 

We were just beginning to feel settled, when 
a letter came to Julius from his only sister, who 
lived in a city. It was not unusual for him to 
have letters from her, hut this particular letter 
stands by itself. 

It had a postscript! 

The postscript said: “Would you like a nice 
dog ? The children have had a valuable puppy, 
seven months old, given to them, and we cannot 
keep him here, in a flat. He is half setter and 
half water-spaniel; pure on both sides. We call 
him ‘Bruno.’ ” 

How our dignity increased at the idea of own¬ 
ing live-stock! So far we had only achieved 
a cat, who had by this time achieved kittens. 
But a dog! That was something like! It 
did not take us long to decide and send off an 
enthusiastic acceptance. Then another letter 
came, saying that Bruno had started on the 
journey us-ward. 

The next afternoon a colored car-porter 
walked into Julius’s place of business escort¬ 
ing a shaggy brown dog by a chain fastened 
to his collar. We have never known just what 



BRUNO 


3 


transpired during that eighteen hours’ journey; 
but something notable 7 there certainly was, for 
Bruno could never endure the sight or presence 
of a negro from that time as long as he lived. 
He seemed utterly humiliated and dejected when 
he was led in. 

Julius looked up from his day-book, and 
exclaimed,— 

“Is that you, Bruno? How are you, old 
fellow?” At the sound of his name, Bruno 
raised his ears, wrinkled his forehead, and cock¬ 
ed his head on one side inquiringly. Julius 
stroked and patted him, and Bruno was won. 

I was sitting at home busily sewing, when I 
was startled by a great clatter out on the side¬ 
walk. I looked, and there came Julius leading 
—puppy, indeed! A dog nearly as big as a 
calf! I had expected a baby-dog in a basket! 

He was a beauty,—his hair just the color 
that is called auburn or red, when humans 
have it. He sniffed me over approvingly, and 
let me hug his beautiful head. 

We took off the chain, and watched him roll 
and bathe himself in the high grass of the back 
yard. He had probably never seen such grass 
before, and he could not express his delight 
with it. 



4 


BRUNO 


There was a three-cornered discussion at bed¬ 
time about where our new pet was to sleep. 
Julius and I did the talking, while Bruno sat 
upright—I called it “standing up before, and 
sitting down behind/’ his ears cocked up, look¬ 
ing from one to the other as we spoke, seeming 
to understand all that was said. It was finally 
decided to make him a bed on the floor beside 
ours, so that he would not be lonesome. 

Several times in the night we were startled 
by his cries. He moaned and whined in his 
sleep,—evidently having bad dreams. Julius 
would call to him until he was broad awake, 
then reach down and pat him till his tail began 
to thump the floor, and he would rise and wind 
himself up by going round and round on his 
bed, then drop, to go off again into an uneasy 
snooze. We did not sleep much. Towards 
morning we were awakened from a first sound 
nap, finding ourselves violently crowded and 
pushed. Julius sprang out of bed and lighted 
a candle. There was Bruno monopolizing half 
of our bed. 

It was daylight before we could convince him 
that his bed was on the floor and that he was 
expected to occupy it. 

The next afternoon, I ventured to take Bruno 



BRUNO 


5 


for a walk. I had tied a broad light-blue ribbon 
in a big bow round his neck, which contrasted 
beautifully with his auburn curls. I felt very 
proud of his appearance, and he also eyed me 
with a look of satisfaction. Alas! “Pride 
goeth before a fall, and a haughty spirit before 
destruction.” 

As we crossed a street that ran at right angles 
with the one we were gracing, Bruno, looking 
down its vista, caught sight of what was prob¬ 
ably the first flock of hens he had ever seen. 

All the setter in him sprang to the fore, and 
in a flash he was off after them. Without a 
thought, I followed. Up and down the street 
we sped,—he after the one speckled hen he had 
singled out, and I after him, shrieking to him, 
and making lunges at him with my parasol, as 
he and the hen rushed by me. 

Finally the distracted Biddy, squawking, 
cackling, and with outspread wings, found the 
hole under the fence through which the others 
had escaped and disappeared, leaving us to view 
the ruins, heated and dishevelled, with smashed 
parasol, muddy feet, draggled ribbon, and van¬ 
ished dignity. 

After some half-hysterical reproaches from 
me, which Bruno listened to with drooping ears 



6 


BRUNO 


and tail, we turned, demoralized and dejected, to 
wend our way homeward, I mentally congratu¬ 
lating myself that the streets were deserted. I 
shuddered to think of the probable consequences 
if it had happened after school hours when the 
small boy was abroad. 

So far we had managed to prevent a meeting 
between Bruno and Rebecca. 

Bruno was to us such an uncertain quantity 
that we feared the result of their first glimpse 
of each other. So the box containing Rebecca’s 
kittens had been kept out in the stable, and her 
food carried out to her to prevent the dreaded 
meeting. I wearied of the daily forced marches 
stable-ward, though, and longed to have them 
within reach. So, one evening after Julius 
came home from the office, we, in fear and 
trembling, brought in the box, and mounted 
guard to watch developments. 

Bruno looked curious, sniffed, and then drew 
nearer. I sat down on the floor to be ready 
to defend them, while Julius stood behind 
Bruno. 

As soon as he spied the kits, his ears rose and 
he was all alert. Then gradually he seemed to 
realize, from our way of proceeding, that they 
were not fair game. His ears drooped forward, 



BRUNO 


7 


his tail began to wag, and I drew back from the 
protecting attitude I bad instinctively assumed. 
His tail continued to wag, bis ears drooped 
lower and lower, until presently he was licking 
the little kits and rooting them over with bis 
nose regardless of their ineffectual clawing and 
spitting. 

At this stage of the game, who should arrive 
on the scene but Rebecca! She came dashing 
in, having returned from a hunting excursion 
to find her nest of babies gone; coming, as she 
always did when anything went wrong, for our 
help and comfort. As soon as she saw Bruno, 
her hack went up as if a spring had been 
touched; she stood at bay, growling and 
spitting. 

He started towards her, hut Julius grasped 
his collar. Then Rebecca caught sight of her 
kits. She darted to them, sprang into the box, 
and covered them with her body. 

Julius loosened his hold of Bruno, who ad¬ 
vanced eagerly. 

Rebecca received him with a flash of her paw 
which left a long deep scratch on his nose. He 
retreated, whining and growling. Julius com¬ 
forted him, while I took Rebecca in hand. For 
some time we reasoned and experimented with 



8 


BRUNO 


them, until finally we had the satisfaction of 
seeing Rebecca let down her bristles and begin 
to purr while Julius smoothed her head and 
back with Bruno’s paw. 

After that they kept the peace fairly well, 
though Rebecca always boxed his ears when 
she came in and found him licking and nosing 
her kittens. 

We tried to keep him away from them, but 
he did love them so. He would watch Rebecca 
out of one eye as he lay dozing, and as soon as 
she started on a hunt, he would go tiptoeing to 
the kitten-box for a frolic. 

Soon they grew quite fond of playing with 
his big curly ears, and forgot to spit and 
scratch. 



BRUNO 


9 


CHAPTER II 

r\ ISTE morning when Julius got up, he could 
find only one of his slippers. After a 
long search the other was found under the 
edge of the washing-stand, but in a decidedly 
dilapidated condition. 

It had evidently been gnawed. 

We gravely discussed the misfortune of hav¬ 
ing our premises invaded by rats, and when on 
the following morning one of my overshoes was 
likewise discovered to be a wreck, matters began 
to look serious, and Julius hastened to procure 
a trap. 

That night I was awakened from my first 
doze by a sound of gnawing, and on hastily 
lighting a candle, Bruno was seen with a con¬ 
scious, shamefaced expression—just like a big 
boy who is caught enjoying a nursery-bottle— 
chewing a shoe! 

It was quite a revelation of dog-character to 
find such a big fellow chewing up things, but 
we were relieved on the score of rats. Bruno 



10 


BRUNO 


was furnished with an old shoe for his very 
own on which to exercise his jaws, and we 
formed the habit of arranging our shoes on the 
mantelpiece every night before retiring. 

We exchanged the trap for some boxes of 
tacks, which are always “handy to have in the 
house.” 

About this time our neighbors, the Crows, 
became possessed of a large setter dog, by name 
Leo. 

This dog was deficient in morality, and at 
once developed thieving propensities. 

Bruno soon understood that we did not want 
Leo to come to our house, nor even into the 
yard; still, he personally formed a dog-friend¬ 
ship for him. While this seemed at the time 
very strange to us, I have since explained it to 
my own satisfaction. 

I think Leo must have confided to Bruno the 
fact that he was not well cared for by his 
owners. 

Many people seem to think it is unnecessary 
to give a dog regular meals. They think he 
ought to “pick up a living.” The Crows 
seemed to have this idea; so Bruno doubtless 
felt that Leo was not altogether to blame for 
being a thief, and after fiercely driving him 



BRUNO 


11 


outside of our gate, he would follow, and they 
would have romps and races until both were 
exhausted. 

Leo was the only real dog-friend Bruno ever 
had. All his other friends were either humans 
or cats. 

The crowds of dogs that sometimes go yelp¬ 
ing and tearing through the streets were to him 
objects of the loftiest scorn. From front window 
or porch he would look down his nose at them, 
then turn, stepping high, to march off and lie 
down in some remote corner where only the 
faintest echoes of their din could reach him. 

One evening, while Julius and I were at 
choir-practice, we heard something that dis¬ 
tressed me greatly. I felt that I could not 
stay, so we slipped out and hurried home. As 
soon as we were inside of our own door I 
threw myself into Julius’s arms with childlike 
sobbing. 

He tried to comfort me, but I could only 
hear my own heart-throbs. All at once he 
exclaimed,— 

“Look, Judith, look at Bruno!” 

His tone was so strange, it penetrated even 
my grief. I raised my head and there was 
Bruno, standing upright, his head against 



12 


BRUNO 


Julius’s shoulder, as close to me as he could get, 
his eyes full of tears, the picture of woe. 

“You see Bruno is crying too,” said Julius. 

As soon as Bruno saw me look up, he threw 
back his head and wagged his tail as if to 
say,— 

“Come now, that’s better, much better.” 

My tears still fell, but they were no longer 
bitter. There was something about the sym¬ 
pathy of that dumb creature which touched a 
chord not to be reached by anything human. It 
was so unlooked for and so sincere. 

It was wonderful how he entered into all our 
feelings. In those days I was very much 
afraid of thunder-storms. In some subtle way 
Bruno divined this and kept the closest watch 
for clouds. If the heavens began to be over¬ 
cast, he would go from window to window, 
noting developments, coming to me every few 
minutes to look into my face and wag his tail 
reassuringly. 

When our fears were verified and the storm 
broke, he would come to rest his head on my 
knee, wincing with me at the thunders and 
flashes. When the worst was over, and big 
scattering drops showed the end of the storm 
to be near, he would drop at my feet with a 



BRUNO 


13 


huge sigh of relief that showed what a nervous 
strain he had been enduring. 

He also discovered a strong aversion I had 
for spiders, and went about killing every one 
he could find. Chancing to he at my side one 
day when I dodged and exclaimed at the too 
familiar dartings of a wasp that was flying 
around me, he from that time made it a rule 
to destroy flying bugs of all kinds, often jump¬ 
ing high in the air to catch them. 



14 


BRUNO 


CHAPTER III 

"XTOW approached a troublous time in Bruno’s 
^ career. He fell into bad ways. We al¬ 
ways thought it was Leo who tempted him. 

It developed in this way. Soon after dark 
Bruno would ask to have the door opened for 
him to go out. He would look as innocent as 
if he only meant to step around to the well for 
a fresh drink. At bedtime we would suddenly 
remember that we had heard nothing of him 
since he had been let out. Julius would open 
the door expecting to find him lying on the 
porch. Disappointed in this, he would whistle, 
call, whistle again, but there would be no 
answer. At last we would give him up and go 
to bed. At gray dawn there would be a sound 
of scratching on the door, and when it was 
opened Bruno would come in, muddy, draggled, 
and exhausted. After drinking with evident 
relish from his water-bowl, he would curl up on 
his bed and sleep till noon. 



BRUNO 


15 


We scolded him about these “tears,” as we 
called them, until he would in spite of his 
fatigue go through with his tricks on being 
admitted in the morning: he would “sit up” 
and offer to “shake hands” with first one paw, 
then the other; trying to propitiate whichever 
of us opened the door for him. But he would 
not give up the “tears.” Then we tried chain¬ 
ing him for the night. This kept him at home 
for nearly a week, until he finally succeeded in 
pulling out the staple that held the chain. In 
the morning Bruno, chain, and all had vanished; 
for it was summer-time and we had chained 
him outside, under an open shed. The hours 
crept on towards afternoon, and still he came 
not. I had heard at intervals all day the dis¬ 
tant yelping of a dog, but had only noticed it 
to suppose that a neighbor some few blocks 
away had had occasion to tie up his watch-dog. 
As evening approached, I anxiously awaited the 
return of Julius from his office that he might go 
in search of our missing Bruno. 

While I was waiting, the milkman came 
along. 

“Where’s your dog ?” he asked, as he poured 
out the milk. 

Bruno and Rebecca always watched for the 



16 


BRUNO 


milkman and were first to greet him; this day 
only Rebecca was there. 

“I wish I knew,” I answered; “he ran. off 
in the night dragging his chain, and we don’t 
know what has become of him.” 

“There’s a big brown dog that looks just 
like yours chained to the sidewalk over yonder 
beyond Mr. Black’s.” 

He jerked his head in the direction whence 
the yelping sounds had come. 

IJncle Edwards was then spending a few days 
with us. He was one of those people who be¬ 
lieve that sooner or later all dogs go mad, and 
that it is as much as one’s life is worth to come 
within ten feet of them. He and Bruno were 
on the most distant terms of mutual toleration. 

But I was desperate. Julius had not come, 
and I must he at home in case Bruno did arrive 
hungry, thirsty, and footsore. There was no 
help for it; I must ask assistance from Uncle 
Edwards. 

He was a gentleman of the old school, always 
obliging and courteous. He would how politely 
and pick up a loaded shell with burning fuse 
attached, if asked to do so by a lady. 

He readily agreed to go round by Mr. Black’s 
to see if by any chance the “big brown dog 



BRUNO 


17 


chained to the sidewalk” could he ours. He 
shortly returned, leading by the extreme end of 
his chain a very crestfallen Bruno; tired, 
hungry, thirsty, his throat raw with ineffectual 
yelpings. 

Delighted and relieved as I was to see him, 
I still had room for a smothered laugh at his 
and Uncle Edwards’s attitude to each other as 
they approached. Uncle regarded Bruno out 
of the tail of his eye, as if he were some infernal 
machine, liable at any moment to do things un¬ 
heard of; while Bruno, perfectly aware of his 
distrust, threw tired, meekly humorous glances 
out of the tail of his eye. It was comical. 

His chain had caught in a cleft board of the 
sidewalk, and he had been held there, struggling 
and yelping, part of the night and all day! All 
who had happened to see him thought he had 
been fastened there for some purpose or other. 

This was a pretty severe lesson for Bruno, 
and it kept him at home for several nights. At 
last temptation again overcame him, and at bed¬ 
time one night he was missing. When he 
returned at dawn, his side was peppered with 
small bloody wounds. He had been shot! 

“That settles it,” said Julius; “he has been 
chasing sheep!” 



18 


BRUNO 


We were extremely troubled at this discovery, 
and Julius said,— 

“Our life is too quiet for him. His instincts 
are all for chasing something. Our little prom¬ 
enades are but an aggravation to a dog who 
is longing to stretch his legs over miles of 
country.” 

We knew he must go at least six miles to 
find sheep. 

For the first time we now began seriously to 
consider the idea of giving Bruno away. 

A young hunter, whom we will call Mr. 
Nimrod, had long been wanting him. He told 
us it was a shame to turn such a splendid fellow 
into a drawing-room dog. He would hold forth 
indefinitely on Bruno’s points, especially certain 
extra toes on his various legs. He said a dog 
with such toes was built for a “lightning-ex¬ 
press” runner, and that it was outraging nature 
to try to keep him cooped up in a village lot. 
After many discussions we at last decided we 
ought to give him up to the life for which he 
so evidently longed. 

We were about to move into the house we 
had been building, and we thought the best way 
to make the dog-transfer would be for Julius 
to take him to Mr. Nimrod’s the last day before 



BRUNO 


19 


we moved, so that if he ran away and came 
to find ns, there would be only the deserted 
house. 

It did not occur to us that this would he 
cruel. We knew we w T ere giving him up for 
his own good, and we felt sure he would soon 
get wonted to his new home, where he could 
live the life for which he was created. So, on 
the last evening in the old home, Julius took 
up his hat, which was always a signal to Bruno, 
who came and sat up before him, with ears at 
“attention,” which was his way of asking,— 

“May I go?” 

“Yes, Boonie can go,” answered Julius. 

Then Bruno, who had long since learned to 
understand the difference between “go” and 
“stay,” went bounding down the walk, leaped 
over the gate, and began rushing back and forth 
along in front of the lot, giving short barks of 
delight. Julius called him back, and he came 
rather crestfallen, thinking he was, after all, to 
“stay;” but it was only that I might hug him 
and tell him, “Goodbye, you must be a good 
doggie!” 

This puzzled him; but his bewilderment was 
soon forgotten in the fact that he was really and 
truly to “go.” When Julius returned an hour 



20 


BRUNO 


later, he told me he had slipped away while Mr. 
and Mrs. Nimrod were petting Bruno, and so 
had escaped a formal leave-taking. I was glad 
of this, for I had dreaded their parting. 

In spite of the fact that I was the one to 
attend to Bruno’s wants,—that he always came 
to me when hungry or thirsty, and that I never 
disciplined him as Julius sometimes did,—still 
he showed in many ways that Julius’s place in 
his heart was far above mine. So I was relieved 
that there had been no good-byes. 

We were both entirely engrossed for the next 
few days by getting moved and settled. In 
spite of busy hands, I had many times felt a 
tugging at the heart-strings for the absent 
Bruno. I said nothing about it, though; and 
Julius afterwards confessed that he too had 
felt longings, hut had suppressed them for fear 
of upsetting me, just as I had concealed my 
feelings on his account. 

On the afternoon of the fourth day Julius 
could stand it no longer; he must have some 
news of Bruno. So he looked up Mr. Nimrod. 

Before he could ask any questions, Mr. Nim¬ 
rod began,— 

“What did you feed that dog, anyway?” 

“Why, the same things we ate,” answered 



BRUNO 


21 


Julius, in surprise; “whatever there was on the 
table.” 

“Well, he won’t eat anything for ns. We’ve 
tried everything we could think of. What does 
he like best?” 

“Well,” said Julius, “he likes biscuit and 
toast and fried mush,—all sorts of crisp and 
crackly things; and bones,—little ones that he 
can bite,—and meats of course.” 

“We’ve tried everything except the toast 
and mush. We’ll try him on those. I’ll go 
right home now and see about it.” 

When Julius came home and repeated this 
conversation to me, it produced what may 
without exaggeration be called a state of mind. 
I was half wild. All the emotions I had been 
struggling to conceal since Bruno’s departure 
now held sway. Julius was deeply moved too. 
We could only comfort each other by recalling 
all the trouble we had had with Bruno, from 
the anxious night of his first “tear,” to that last 
morning when he had returned wounded and 
bloody. 

We assured each other that he would soon 
consent to be happy in such a good home, and 
that it would be wrong for us to indulge our 
feelings to his ultimate hurt. We dwelt espe- 



22 


BRUNO 


cially on the fact that if he should again go 
sheep-chasing and he shot at, he stood at least 
a chance of being fatally wounded. 

Thus we talked ourselves into a reasonable 
frame of mind. 



BRUNO 


23 


CHAPTER IV 

f KNEW, without anything being said about 
it, that Julius would lose no time the next 
day in finding out if Bruno had consented to 
eat his supper. When he started down town 
a whole hour earlier than usual, I knew, as well 
as if he had said so, that it was in order to have 
time to hunt up Mr. Nimrod before office hours. 

“IPs no use,” began Mr. Nimrod, as soon as 
Julius appeared; “wouldn’t touch a thing. 
Never saw such a dog. I believe he’s trying 
to starve himself.” 

“Don’t you think,” ventured Julius, “it 
would be well to bring him out to our house 
for a little visit, to cheer him up ?” 

“Not much!” answered Mr. Nimrod, prompt¬ 
ly, “I never could break him in then. He has 
run away twice already, and both times I follow¬ 
ed him and found him hanging around the house 
you moved from. Lucky the trail was cold. 
If he once finds out where you are, the jig’s 
up.” 



24 


BRUNO 


When Julius came home at noon, we sat at 
the table listless and dejected, now and then 
making fitful attempts to converse. The dainty 
noon meal had suddenly lost flavor after we 
had exchanged a few sentences about “Poor, 
hungry Bruno!” 

Were we to eat, drink, and be merry, while 
our faithful friend starved for love of us! 

After Julius had returned to the office, there 
was such a tugging at my heart-strings that I— 
well, yes, I did, I cried! How I regretted that 
I had never cultivated an intimacy with Mrs. 
Nimrod, so that I might have “run in” to call, 
and thus have an opportunity to comfort the 
poor homesick fellow! 

Julius saw the tear-traces when he returned 
towards evening, and proposed a stroll down 
town; thinking, I suppose, that if we sat at 
home we should be sure to talk of Bruno and 
be melancholy. 

We walked through all the principal streets 
of the town, meeting and greeting friends and 
acquaintances, stopping to glance at new goods 
in several of the shops; bringing up at last in 
the town’s largest bookstore. 

We were just starting for home, when on the 
sidewalk there was a sudden flurry and dash, 



BRUNO 


25 


and Bruno, stomach to earth, was crawling about 
us, uttering yelps and whines that voiced a joy 
so great it could not be told from mortal agony. 

Kegardless of the fact that we were on the 
most public thoroughfare of the town, I fell on 
my knees to hug him, and could not keep back 
tears of mingled joy and pain. His poor thin 
sides! His gasps of rapture! Oh, Boonie, 
Boonie! 

The first excitement over, we looked about 
us for Mr. Nimrod. He was nowhere to be 
seen. Bruno had evidently escaped, and was 
running away to look for us when he had 
chanced to strike our trail and so had found us. 

We were glad he was alone. We both felt 
that if he had been torn from us at that su¬ 
preme moment he would have died; he was 
so faint with fasting and grief, and then the 
overwhelming joy at finding those he had 
thought to be forever lost to him! He squeezed 
himself in between us, and kept step as we went 
homeward in the gathering twilight. 

As soon as we reached home, we hurried him 
to the kitchen to enjoy the sight of the poor 
fellow at his trencher. How we fed him! I 
ransacked the pantry for the things he liked best, 
till his sides began to swell visibly. He paused 



26 


BRUNO 


between mouthfuls to feast his loving eyes on 
first one, then the other of us, and his tail never 
once stopped wagging. Rebecca came purring 
in to rub against his legs, and even submitted 
with shut eyes to a kiss from his big wet 
tongue. He must have felt that such an hour 
repaid him for all his sufferings. 

After he had eaten until he evidently could 
not take another morsel, we drew him in front 
of us as we sat side by side, for a three-cor¬ 
nered talk. He sat on end, waving his tail to 
and fro on the floor, wrinkling his forehead and 
cocking up his ears, while we explained the 
situation to him. 

We told him how kind Mr. Nimrod meant to 
be to him, how he would train him to hunt and 
take him on long daily runs. Then we re¬ 
minded him how impossible it was for Julius to 
go on such excursions with him, and of how 
many scrapes he had got into by going alone,— 
he seeming to take it all in and to turn it over 
in his mind. 

Then we told him that since he had found 
our new home he could come often to see us, 
and he would always find us glad to see him,— 
yes, more than glad! 

Then Julius got his hat and said,— 



BRUNO 


27 


“Come on, Boonie; now we’re going home.” 

He seemed quite willing to go. I told him 
good-by with a heart so light I could scarcely 
believe it the same one I had felt to be such a 
burden when I had set off for our walk two 
hours earlier. I busied myself then preparing 
a little supper against Julius’s return; for we 
had not been able to eat since breakfast, and I 
knew by my own feelings, that Julius would 
welcome the sight of a well-spread smoking 
table; and he said on his return that I “guessed 
just right.” 

He and Bruno had found the Nimrods very 
much disturbed over their dog’s disappearance. 
Mr. Nimrod had just returned from an unsuc¬ 
cessful search, and they were wondering what 
to do next. They welcomed the wanderer, hut 
were concerned, too, that he had discovered our 
dwelling-place. 

“I’m afraid we’ll have to keep him tied up 
now,” said Mr. Nimrod. 

Julius thought not, and said,— 

“Now that he knows where we are, and can 
come for a glimpse of us now and then, I 
believe he’ll be better contented than he was 
when he thought we’d left the country.” 

Better contented he certainly was, but he 



28 


BRUNO 


positively refused to stay at home. It soon 
came to be a regular thing for Julius to escort 
him back every evening. 

The Nimrods lived nearly a mile from us, so 
Julius did not lack for exercise. 

Mr. Nimrod finally came to remonstrate 
with us. 

“You ought to shut him out,” he cried, “then 
he’d have to come back home.” 

For answer, Julius showed him certain long, 
deep scratches on our handsome new doors, 
adding,— 

“Don’t you see? It’s as much as our doors 
are worth to shut him out, and he leaps that 
four-foot fence as if it were but four inches.” 

There was obviously no possible reply to such 
logic as this; so he continued to come,—drag¬ 
ging sometimes a rope or strap, or some other 
variety of tether, triumphantly proving that 
love laughs at locksmiths! 

The Nimrods at last lost heart. Bruno never 
would eat there, and he never stayed when he 
could manage to escape. One night it was 
raining hard when the time came for him to be 
taken “home,” so they did not go; and that 
seemed to settle it. 

He was our dog. 



BRUNO 


29 


We had given him away without his consent, 
and he refused to be given; so the trade was 
off. He stayed closely at home now, seeming 
to think we might disappear again if he did not 
watch us. 



30 


BRUNO 


CHAPTER V 


HLESS there were guests in the house, we 



^ usually slept with all the inner doors wide 
open for better circulation of air. 

One night we were awakened by tremendous 
barkings and growlings from Bruno. Julius 
spoke to him, and he answered with a whine. 
Then we could hear his feet pad-padding on the 
carpet as he went from our room, tap-tapping 
on the oil-cloth in the hall, pad-padding again 
through the sitting-room and the dining-room, 
then tap-tapping on the painted kitchen floor, 
with more loud barks and deep growls. 

Julius tried again to quiet him, but he re¬ 
fused to be quieted. 

Something disturbs him,” I said. “Maybe 
we’d better let him out.” 

“Ho,” said Julius, “it is probably that 
wretched Leo lurking around, trying to toll 
him off. He’s better inside.” 

I did not think he would seem so fierce if it 
were Leo, hut I was too sleepy to argue; so we 
dozed off, leaving him still on the alert. 



BRUNO 


31 


Deep was our surprise next morning to find 
that a band of thieves had raided the town 
during the night, and that the houses on both 
sides of us had been entered! How we petted 
and praised Bruno, our defender! He was 
quite unconcerned, though, and seemed as if he 
would say to us,— 

“Oh, that was nothing. I only barked and 
made a racket!” 

Truly, it was only necessary for him to hark 
and make a racket. There was never any occa¬ 
sion for him to go further. His voice was so 
loud and deep it always conveyed the impres¬ 
sion of a dog as big as a house, — one that 
could swallow a man at one mouthful without 
winking. 

People were always ready to take the hint 
when he gave voice to his emotions. They 
never undertook to argue with him. 

After that night we never slept with such 
comfortable feelings of perfect security as we 
felt at those times when we were half aroused 
by Bruno’s barks and growls. 

For a while the days passed uneventfully in 
our little home. Julius and I were interested 
in beautifying and improving our grounds, so 
time never dragged with us. Rebecca rejoiced 



32 


BRUNO 


in several successive sets of kittens. They and 
Bruno frolicked through the days, with exciting 
interruptions in the shape of the milkman’s 
calls, Julius’s returns from the office, and occa¬ 
sional visits from the neighbors’ children. 

For greater convenience we always spoke 
collectively of Bruno, Rebecca and her kits, as 
“the cattle.” 

The milkman’s daily calls never grew stale 
to them. They generally heard his bell before 
Julius or I suspected he was near, and would 
all go to the sidewalk to meet him. Bruno 
would leap the fence; Rebecca and her kits 
would creep through. As soon as the milk was 
poured out, they all raced to the back piazza to 
wait for their share of it. When the dish was 
filled and placed before them on the floor, Bruno 
stook back with drooping ears, watching them 
drink. He seemed to feel that it would not be 
fair to pit his great flap of a tongue against 
their tiny rose-leaves. They always left some 
for him, which he devoured in two or three 
laps, while they all sat about washing their 
faces. I don’t think he cared for the milk; he 
took it to be sociable, and seemed to be as well 
satisfied with a swallow or two as he was after 
drinking the dishful I sometimes offered him. 



BRUNO 


33 


He often tried to chew the grain on which the 
chickens were fed, and would eat anything he 
saw us taking, including all kinds of fruit, nuts, 
candies, and ices. Of course the chief of his 
diet was the various preparations of cereals and 
meats, but he seemed to want a taste of all that 
was going. 

Once, much to his own ultimate disgust, he 
coaxed me to give him a sniff of a smelling- 
bottle he thought I seemed to be enjoying. 
After that, he regarded all bottles with the 
deepest suspicion and aversion. 



34 


BRUNO 


CHAPTER YI 

T T is hard to remember just when we first be- 
gan to talk Florida. Then a neighbor went 
down there on a prospecting tour, and returned 
bringing enthusiastic accounts of the climate 
and opportunities. We were greatly interested, 
and at once sent off for various Florida papers, 
pamphlets, and hooks. 

Julius had always dreaded the bleak northern 
winters, having some chronic troubles, — a 
legacy of the Civil War. It is only in literature 
that a delicate man is interesting; practically, 
it subjects him to endless trials and humilia¬ 
tions, so we never gave his state of health as a 
reason for the proposed change. Instead, we 
flourished my tender throat. A woman may be 
an invalid without loss of prestige, so not one 
of our friends suspected that our proposed 
change of climate was not solely on my account. 

We decided that as soon as our northern 
property could he disposed of, we would turn 
our faces southward and try pioneering. 



BRUNO 


35 


Some children in a neighboring family had 
formed an enthusiastic friendship with Bruno, 
and as soon as our plans were announced, their 
parents asked us to give him to them when we 
were ready to start South. In spite of our 
former experience in giving him away, this 
seemed entirely feasible to us. 

In the first place, we thought it would be 
utterly impossible to take him with us to 
Florida. Then he was really and truly attached 
to the children who wanted him; so we readily 
consented; and we encouraged them to monopo¬ 
lize him as much as possible, so that we might 
see him comfortably settled before we started. 
They lived next door to us, and Bruno was 
always ready to join them in a game of romps. 
He even ate from their hands. It seemed a 
perfect arrangement. 

Our pretty little home was soon sold and dis¬ 
mantled, and we went to board in another part 
of town while preparing for the long journey, 
which then seemed almost as difficult as a trip 
to the moon. We locked up the empty house 
and slipped away to our boarding-place, while 
Bruno, all unconscious of what was going on, 
was barking and tearing about in a game of tag 
on the other side of our neighbor’s large grounds. 



36 


BRUNO 


Old Aunt Nancy, a colored woman wlio had 
belonged to one of my aunts before the war, 
and who bad been our stand-by in domestic 
emergencies, bad taken Rebecca and her family, 
promising them “Jes’ as good a borne as I can 
gib’m, Miss Judith.” It was a sad breaking 
up, but we felt that our pets were well provided 
for, and that we should feel worse for leaving 
them than they would at being left. 

Vain thought! 

Two evenings after leaving our home, while 
I was busy in our room, making ready to begin 
packing, I heard Julius’s step on the stairs, 
accompanied by a familiar clatter that made my 
heart stand still. The door burst open, and, 
before I could rise from my kneeling position, 
surrounded by piles of folded things, I was 
knocked over sideways by a rapturous onslaught 
from Bruno. 

“What does this mean!” I exclaimed, as 
soon as I could speak. 

“I don’t know,” answered Julius. “I found 
him waiting for me at the office door when I 
came out. He seemed half wild with delight 
at seeing me again. I rather think it is a repe¬ 
tition of the Nimrod experiment.” 

“Poor old fellow!” I cried. “See how his 



BRUNO 


37 


sides have fallen in just in these two days! He 
has been starving again, and we have nothing 
to give him!” 

“That’s so,” said Julius. “I’d better go 
and get something for him, hadn’t I?” 

“Yes, indeed,” I answered. “At once, poor 
old doggie!” 

So they went clattering down the stairs again, 
and soon returned with some promising-looking 
paper hags. 

We spread a newspaper on the hearth to re¬ 
ceive his feast, then sat watching him and re¬ 
turning his glances of affection while he ate. 
When he had eaten to his satisfaction and 
dropped into a happy snooze, Julius said, — 

“Well, I suppose I might as well try to find 
out if it would be possible to take him with 
us. I’ll see the agent to-morrow. We must 
either take him, or have him killed; for I see 
plainly that it won’t do at all to try to leave 
him.” 

“If we could just have him go along in the 
car with us, it would he all right,” answered I. 
“He is such a knowing old fellow he would 
understand things perfectly.” 

“That’s impossible, I know,” cried Julius. 
“If he goes at all, he must ride in baggage- 



38 


BRUNO 


cars, and we’ll be in a sleeper. I don’t see 
bow we can manage it.” 

I began to think that a way would open, and 
my heart felt lighter than it had at any time 
since we first began to talk Florida. If we 
could have Bruno with us, I no longer dreaded 
going to a land which, in my imaginings, had 
appeared to be teeming with unknown dangers. 

The next morning Julius went promptly to 
interview the agent, and found that, after all, 
it would be possible to take Bruno with us to 
Florida. It would be some trouble and some 
expense. Besides his passage as baggage, the 
porters in each car must be feed; and while we 
in the sleeper should be in a through car, he 
would have a number of changes to make,— 
one of them at early dawn, and another in the 
night. It would be necessary for Julius to see 
to these changes in person, in case Bruno proved 
to be unruly, which was quite probable. We 
decided to undertake it, and Bruno’s outfit for 
the journey was at once purchased. This con¬ 
sisted of a strong new collar and chain, with a 
big tin cup fastened to the chain for plenty of 
drinks, and a lunch-basket full of biscuit. 

The memorable day came, and we were 
escorted to the train by kind neighbors and 



BRUNO 


39 


friends full of good-byes and good wishes for 
us all, Bruno receiving a full share of their 
attentions. 

We knew well that they considered the whole 
affair to be a wild-goose chase, and that they 
expected to see us return, sadder and wiser, in 
a year at furthest. 

As soon as the train was under way, Julius 
went forward to see how Bruno was taking it. 
He found him in a state of the utmost excite¬ 
ment, howling and dragging at his chain, prob¬ 
ably remembering his other journey on the cars, 
when he had left his first home to come alone to 
us in his puppy hood. When he saw Julius 
and realized that we were with him, his joy and 
relief were touching. Julius stayed awhile with 
him, and got him some water, — he was always 
thirsty after “crying,” — then came back to 
report to me. 

I felt so relieved to know that we had really 
got off with Bruno in good shape, it almost 
made me forget a small ache in the corner of 
my heart for something that had happened a 
day or two before. I had gone up by the old 
home to say good-bye to an invalid neighbor, 
and there, on the sidewalk, by the gate, sat 
Rebecca. Thin, scrawny, and alert, she sat 




40 


BRUNO 


watching for somebody, — easy to guess what 
“somebody.” How glad she was to see me! 

I sat down on the gate-step, and took her in 
my arms, wishing with all my heart that we 
could take her with us, too. Still, I knew we 
couldn’t. She, a sober, middle-aged cat, to be 
carried all those many miles! Then it might 
be weeks after we reached Florida before we 
decided where to settle. A dog, once there, 
could trot around after us, but what could we 
do with a cat ? She had never learned to follow 
for any distance, and she was always nervous 
about being carried. 

Ho, it wasn’t to be thought of. 

I stayed, petting her as long as I could; then, 
after urging her to go back and be contented 
with Aunt Haney, I bade her a tearful good¬ 
bye, and carried away an ache in my heart that 
I sometimes feel yet. 

Dear old Rebecca! 

Some day I hope to go across into cat-heaven 
and hunt her up. Then she can be made to 
understand why I was seemingly so hard¬ 
hearted as to go off and leave her looking 
mournfully after me on that sad day so long 
ago. Maybe she knows now; I hope she does. 



BRUNO 


41 


CHAPTER YII 

T T was late forenoon when we set off Elorida- 
ward. Just after dark we reached a big 
city where we were to take the through sleeper 
to Jacksonville. In those days there was no 
Union Depot there, and it was necessary to cross 
the city in order to get started on the road 
South. 

This transfer had worried us all along, for 
the time was limited, and there was all our 
baggage to see to and recheck, and Bruno. 
We arranged that I was to take Bruno and go 
with him in the regular transfer omnibus, while 
Julius crossed with the baggage. We thought 
that Bruno and I could take care of each other, 
though I confess I was not willing to have a 
private cab. In the well-lighted, comfortably 
filled ’bus I felt safe enough, even though I 
was crossing a strange city at nightfall, with 
only a dog for escort. 

Bruno looked wistfully at the door as the 
’bus started, but seemed satisfied when I assured 
him it was all right. 



42 


BRUNO 


Julius was waiting for us at the other station 
with tickets and checks. 

When he returned from escorting Bruno to 
the baggage car, reporting, “All’s well,” we 
both fairly laughed, in the relief of having 
passed the most puzzling part of the journey. 

I did not see Bruno again until the next 
morning. It was gray dawn. The train was 
standing, puffing and snorting like a restless 
horse, on the track under the shadow of Lookout 
Mountain. 

On inquiry, Julius had learned that there 
would be a delay of a quarter of an hour or so 
there, and, as he had to be up, anyway, to 
transfer Bruno to another baggage car, he had 
planned to give him a little run; so, as I leaned 
out of the car window, I saw Julius with 
Bruno’s chain, cup, etc., bunched in his hands, 
while the happy dog was galloping up and down 
the roadside. He performed leaps and antics 
expressive of extreme joy when I leaned out 
and called to him, saying to me- as plainly as 
possible,— 

“Here we are again! Isn’t it jolly?” 

And I assured him that it was. 

After that glimpse I saw no more of Bruno 
till we reached Jacksonville; but Julius re- 



BRUNO 


43 


ported, from time to time, that he seemed to 
comprehend the meaning of our plan of travel, 
and trotted along from old to new baggage car, 
so eager not to be left that he tried to enter 
every one he came to with doors standing open. 

Early on the next morning after our stop by 
Lookout Mountain, we entered the “Florida 
Metropolis.” And now, behold, a great sur¬ 
prise! We had brought thinner clothing in 
our hand-bags, thinking that, as we journeyed 
southward, our heavy garments, built for north¬ 
ern winters, would prove to be oppressive. How 
startling, then, to feel our features pinched by 
nipping breezes as we stepped from the cars at 
last in the Sunny South! True, as we passed 
residences on our way to the hotel, we saw 
green trees and blooming flowers; but where 
were the balmy airs that in our dreams were 
always fanning the fadeless flowers in this 
Mecca of our hopes ? 

After leaving the cars, the most welcome 
sight that greeted our eager eyes was a roaring 
open fire in the hotel reception-room. We 
thought this a most excellent joke. They were 
very good to Bruno (for a consideration) at the 
hotel, but it was against their rules to allow 
dogs in the rooms, so he was installed in com- 



44 


BRUNO 


fortable quarters outside. Julius went with 
him to make sure he was satisfied, and to see 
that he was watered, fed, and in good spirits 
before we had our own breakfast. On the way 
down, as ever before, Bruno had attracted much 
favorable notice. Women and girls exclaimed, 
“Oh, see that lovely dog!” And a number of 
men scraped acquaintance with Julius by ad¬ 
miring notice of his “Mighty fine dog!” 

Bruno shrank from their attentions. He 
never made friends with strangers, no matter 
how much they tried to pet him; and he never 
ate anything offered to him by others unless we 
told him to. In fact, he was always very par¬ 
ticular about appropriating food. Sometimes at 
home, when in a brown study, I placed his dish 
of food on the floor without saying anything; 
but he would never begin to eat until he had 
gained my attention by thrusting his nose into 
my hand, asking, “Is that mine ?” by question¬ 
ing glances directed from me to the dish; then, 
when I answered, “Yes, that’s Boonie’s; that’s 
for Boonie,” he would fall to and enjoy it. 

We were glad of this trait; and we often 
thought that but for it he would, very early 
in his career, have fallen a victim to poison, for 
he was greatly feared by many timid people, 



BRUNO 


45 


especially by various grocer and butcher boys, 
who approached our premises with so many 
absurd precautions that it seemed to afford 
Bruno the greatest delight to keep them in a 
state of terror. 



46 


BRUNO 


CHAPTER VIII 

W E made but a short stay in Jacksonville, 
then hurried on to St. Augustine, 
where a former acquaintance of Julius’s was 
living with his family. We had to take a river 
steamer to Tocoi, — called Decoy by many, for 
obvious reasons,—then journey across to the 
coast on a tiny railway. 

The steamboat on the St. Johns was a first 
experience of the kind for Bruno, who seemed 
to enjoy it greatly, for the boat had but few 
passengers beside ourselves, and we went up 
and down stairs at will, making him several 
visits in his quarters on the lower deck. 

Things were even more informal on the little 
railway. There was no one about when we 
boarded the train; so Bruno followed us into the 
passenger coach, crept under the seat, doubling 
himself up like a shut knife, and, totally effaced 
by the time the conductor came around, rode 
first-class for once. It seemed such a treat for 
us all to be together as we journeyed, that our 



BRUNO 


47 


short ride across from “Decoy” to the coast 
stands out in memory as the pleasantest part of 
the journey. 

We were met at St. Augustine by Julius’s 
friend, and, as he bore a pressing invitation for 
us from his family, we stopped that first day 
with them, so that they might have their fill of 
news from their friends and relatives whom we 
had seen just before starting to Florida. 

They kindly urged us to stay longer, but we 
thought that two people and a dog made a 
formidable party to entertain as visitors; so we 
hunted up a pleasant boarding-house, and settled 
ourselves for a two-weeks’ stay. 

All three of us found much to surprise us in 
the old town; but by far the greatest sensation 
was Bruno’s when we first took him out for a 
run, and he promptly made a dash into one of 
the creeks as the tide was flowing in, and took 
a big drink. He was warm with running, and 
the water looked so inviting that he had taken 
a number of swallows before he tasted it. Then 
his antics were most comical. He snorted and 
shook his head till his ears flapped again, and 
rubbed at his nose, first with one paw and then 
with the other. After that one lesson he never 
again drank from a strange pool or stream with- 



48 


BRUNO 


out first tasting it very gingerly, then waiting 
a few seconds to make sure of the after-taste. 
But if he objected to the taste of salt water, he 
found no flaw in the feeling of it. 

There is no memory of him on which I so 
much love to dwell as on the picture he made 
with his tawny curls streaming backwards in 
the breakers when we took him out to the beach. 
The green-curling, foam-tipped waves were to 
him a perfect delight. Even his dashing out in 
our midst and shaking himself so that we were 
all drenched in an impromptu shower-bath is 
pleasant, — as a memory, — though at the time 
we scolded him, and tried to respond sternly to 
his waggish glances, as he gambolled about and 
rolled in the sand. 

The salt water was new to all of us, so we 
spent as much time as possible on the island 
and the beaches. 

On those days when we were confined to the 
mainland by showers, or by the business we 
were attending to between times, we used to 
go, towards evening, to promenade on the sea¬ 
wall. Then Bruno always got down in one of 
the basins for a swim before we returned to our 
temporary home. 

Although it seemed like northern spring 



BRUNO 


49 


weather, some days being quite chilly, and 
others warm enough for summer clothes, we 
awoke one morning to the fact that to-morrow 
would be Christmas. It had seemed to us, 
since our arrival in St. Augustine, as if we 
were in a foreign country, the Spanish element 
was so large in proportion to the rest of the 
town, both in the people and their customs and 
in the arrangement and the construction of the 
city. We heard of the celebration of midnight 
Mass in the old Cathedral, and resolved to 
“assist;” but, as the evening came on crisp 
and chilly, our enthusiasm cooled with it. The 
tonic qualities of the unaccustomed salt air had 
inspired us with a keen interest in food and 
sleep; so, after fully deciding to sit up for the 
Mass, we were ready by half-past nine to declare 
that there was not a sight in the world worth 
the sacrifice of such a night’s sleep as that for 
which we felt ready. So we embarked for 
dreamland, whence we were recalled at daylight 
by Bruno’s excitement over a perfect din of tin 
trumpets and toy drums. 

As we dressed, we peeped through the blinds 
at the processions of small boys marching by in 
the narrow streets below, blowing trumpets and 
pounding drums. The daily drills at the bar- 



50 


BRUNO 


racks in the old city made all the small boys of 
the town even more ambitious than small boys 
usually are to be soldiers. Apparently, every 
one of them had sent Santa Claus a petition 
to bring him something warlike for a Christmas 
present. 

Julius delighted Bruno by taking him out 
and buying him a paper of candy, which he ate 
with much relish; then we three sat on the 
upper piazza on which our room opened, listen¬ 
ing to the music and watching the processions. 

It was a very strange Christmas to all three 
of us. The air was pleasantly warm, and 
green things, with roses and other flowers, were 
in sight in all directions. 

As soon as Christmas had passed, we, with 
that feeling of having turned a corner, common 
at such times, began to hasten our preparations 
to go on South. We had inspected various 
tracts of land around St. Augustine, but had 
not found anything to which we felt particu¬ 
larly drawn. It seemed rather odd, too, to 
come South intending to pioneer, and then to 
settle in or near what the old sergeant at the 
Fort assured us was the oldest city in the Union. 

We felt that we must, at all events, see what 
the wilder parts of the State were like before 



BRUNO 


51 


deciding; so we soon found ourselves speeding 
away again towards “Decoy,” to catch the boat 
for a little station away down South, up the 
river, which was then the only route to a small 
settlement in the mid-lake country, where a 
relative was living, who had urged us to see 
his part of Florida before deciding on anything. 

It seems odd now to think how remote south 
middle Florida was in those days. The point 
we were then trying to reach is now less than 
twelve hours from Jacksonville by rail. Then 
we travelled all night by boat, and took train 
at breakfast time across to a big lake, where a 
tiny steamer awaited us; on this we crossed the 
lake, then stopped at a town on the other side, 
to wait for a wagon which was to come a half¬ 
day’s journey to meet us. 

Our message was delayed, so we spent two 
days at an English inn, near the big lake, where 
we made some friends we have kept on our list 
ever since. And besides these friendships, we 
have treasured many pleasant memories of this 
inn. We approached it in the twilight of a 
chilly, blustering day, and on entering it we 
were greeted by an immense open fire of light- 
wood, which glorified the polished floor, strewn 
with the skins of wild creatures killed in the 



52 


BRUNO 


near-by thickets, called hammocks or hum¬ 
mocks. The firelight gave fitful glimpses of 
old-fashioned chairs, tables, etc., and lighted 
up a number of large gilt-framed paintings 
which adorned the walls; — in short, it was a 
complete picture of artistic comfort. Nor was 
our satisfaction lessened by the fragrant odor of 
frying ham and hot muffins, wafted to us as we 
crossed the hall. 

They gave us a ground-floor room in an L 
opening on one of the side piazzas. This 
arrangement suited Bruno perfectly, and there¬ 
fore it pleased us. There was a small lake 
behind the house, and the next day Julius pro¬ 
posed a row. The boat was quite small, and 
he was then rather unskilled in the use of oars; 
so we coaxed Bruno to sit on the tiny wharf 
and see us go by. 

He seemed quite willing; so we pushed off. 
As we floated outward, Bruno lost heart. It 
was too much like being left behind; so he 
whined and plunged in after us. 

“It isn’t far across,” said Julius, “and a 
swim won’t hurt him!” 

So we went on, letting him follow. 

Suddenly he gave a strange cry, and Julius 
looked around, exclaiming, — 



BRUNO 


53 


“See, he’s cramping!” 

We went to him as rapidly as possible, and 
were just in time. At the risk of upsetting us 
all in the deepest part of the lake — probably 
about fifteen feet — Julius dragged him into 
the boat. We then hurried back to the landing, 
where poor Bruno had to be helped out, and we 
laid him on the grass in a state of exhaustion 
which alarmed us greatly. 

It was some hours before he was himself 
again, and many months before he lost a great 
fear of the water, — in fact, he was never after¬ 
wards the fearless water-dog of his youth. 



54 


BRUNO 


CHAPTER IX 

I SEE us next at the little inland settlement 
surrounding two small lakes for which 
we had started. 

It had been long years since we had seen the 
relative who was living there, and childish 
memories did not tell us that he was the most 
visionary and unpractical of men. We could 
not trust our own judgment in such a topsy¬ 
turvy country as Florida, where the conditions 
were all so new to us; so it is no wonder that 
we took his word for a number of wild state¬ 
ments and decided to buy and settle there. We 
bought a tract of land from a friend and client 
of his, who offered us the use of a small home¬ 
stead shanty near our land, to live in while we 
were building. This shanty looked decidedly 
uninviting, but the alternative was a room in 
the house of our relative, a full mile away from 
our place; so we decided in favor of the shanty. 
It was built of rived boards, slabs split out of 
the native logs. It had one door and no win- 



BRUNO 


55 


dows. In fact, it needed none; for the boards 
lapped roughly on each other, leaving cracks 
like those in window-blinds, so we could put 
our fingers through the walls almost anywhere. 
Besides affording a means of light and ventila¬ 
tion, this was vastly convenient for various 
flying and creeping things. The floor was of 
rough ten-inch boards, with inch-wide cracks 
between them. Julius escorted me over to in¬ 
spect it, saying,— 

“If we try to live in this excuse for a house, 
we shall be pioneering with a vengeance.” 

After a searching glance around the premises, 
I answered,— 

“The pioneering is all right, if we can just 
make it clean.” 

“Oh, that’s easy enough!” exclaimed Julius, 
in a relieved tone. “If you think we can stand 
its other short-comings, I can whitewash the 
whole thing, and make it so fresh and sweet 
you won’t know it.” 

We sent a message for our freight, which we 
had left at Jacksonville, and Julius took a team 
to the nearest town to buy a few necessaries. 
We had brought no furniture South with us, 
knowing that what we had in our Northern 
home would he unsuitable for pioneering. Our 



56 


BRUNO 


freight, therefore, was mostly books and pic¬ 
tures, with a few boxes of clothes, bedding, etc. 
The shanty was wonderfully improved by a coat 
or two of whitewash, and after an old tapestry 
carpet had been put down to cover the cracks 
in the floor, extending up on the walls to form 
a dado, it began to look quite livable. 

The bed and a row of trunks filled one end, 
there being just room to squeeze in between 
them. At the foot of the bed was a table, used 
by turns as kitchen, dining, and library table; 
there was also a box holding a kerosene stove, 
with shelves above it for dishes and supplies. 

We had two wooden chairs, and a bench 
which we put to various uses. When these 
things were all in place, and our books arranged 
on boards which were laid across the rafters 
overhead, we felt as snug as was Robinson 
Crusoe in his cave. 

As soon as we were comfortable, Julius got a 
man to help him, and began to improve our 
land. A few of the large pine trees had to be 
felled, and this performance filled Bruno with 
the wildest excitement. His natural instincts 
told him there was only one reason for which a 
tree should ever be cut, — to capture some wild 
creature which had taken refuge in its top. At 



BRUNO 


57 


the first blow of the axe he would begin to yelp 
and dance, breaking into still wilder antics 
when the tree began to sway and stagger, finally 
rushing into the top as it fell, in a state of 
excitement that bordered on frenzy. 

As he, of course, found nothing there, he 
seemed to think he had not been quick enough, 
and that the creature had escaped; so he be¬ 
came more and more reckless, until Julius was 
alarmed for his safety, and said I must keep 
him shut in-doors till the trees were down, or 
he would surely end by being crushed. 

I had my hands full. I would coax him in, 
and shut the door. As soon as he heard the 
chopping begin, he would whine and bark, 
coaxing to be let out. I always temporized 
until I heard the tree falling, then off he would 
dash, and bounce into its top to yelp and 
explore. 

He never found anything in the trees, but he 
never grew discouraged. He “assisted” at the 
felling of every one. 

Bruno was much happier in Florida than he 
had been in our Northern home. He had all 
the woods to stretch his legs in, and for 
amusement he had the different kinds of wild 
creatures. 



58 


BRUNO 


One moonlight night we three had walked 
over to the post-office for the mail. As Julius 
and I were slowly sauntering homeward, enjoy¬ 
ing the night air, while Bruno made little excur¬ 
sions in all directions, he suddenly came up in 
front of us, and paused in that questioning way 
which showed he had found something of which 
he was not quite sure. 

“What is it, Boonie,” asked Julius. 

Bruno made a short run, then came back, 
pausing as before, and glancing first in the 
direction he had started to go, then at Julius. 

“It is probably a ’possum,” I suggested. 

Bruno had shown himself to be very careful 
about attacking strange animals. He seemed 
to remember our adventure with the hens, his 
first meeting with Kebecca, and some of his 
other experiences. 

Julius answered his evident question with, — 

“Yes. It’s Boonie’s ’possum. Go get him!” 

Off he sprang, dashing into a little clump of 
trees, about a how-shot from us, then with a 
yelp retreated, throwing himself on the ground, 
uttering short cries, rubbing and rooting his 
nose down into the grass and sand. Alas, poor 
Bruno! We knew what it was. We did not 
see it, we did not hear it, but we knew. He 



BRUNO 


59 


felt that he had been a victim of misplaced con¬ 
fidence; but we suffered with him, for it was 
days before he got rid of the “bouquet.” Then 
it was as if by an inspiration. He seemed, all 
at once, to remember something. There was a 
tiny lake near our place, that was going dry. 
Day by day its waters had receded, until it 
was a mere mud-hole. Bruno went down to it, 
and buried himself up to the eyes in the black 
mud. 

He lay there until late afternoon, then trotted 
off to a wet lake near by, and took a thorough 
bath. With this, he regained his lost self- 
respect, but he never forgot the experience. It 
was only necessary to say,— 

“Kitty, kitty, where’s kitty?” to make his 
ears and tail droop in the most dejected manner; 
then he would creep away, out of sight, till 
some more agreeable topic of conversation was 
broached. 

It was not strange, after such a trying adven¬ 
ture, that Bruno was rather timid about ap¬ 
proaching “Br’er ’Possum” when he did meet 
him. One night, he was found lurking around 
outside, sniffing some odds and ends that Bruno 
had disdained. After a little urging, Bruno 
was induced to seize him. Finding that noth- 



60 


BRUNO 


ing unpleasant followed, he became from that 
moment an enthusiastic ’possum-hunter, and 
used to bring one in every night or two. I 
usually cooked them for him, and he ate them 
with a relish, which we thought was fortunate, 
as we were about twelve miles from a butcher. 
Another substitute for beef we found in the 
Florida gopher. This is a grass-eating tortoise 
which digs a house for itself in the sand. 

Bruno soon became a most ardent gopher- 
hunter. Their hard shells make them difficult 
to handle, as they promptly draw in the head 
and legs on being approached; so Bruno would 
nose one over until he could seize the shovel, a 
protruding piece of the lower shell. Getting 
this small hit between his side teeth, he balanced 
the weight by holding his head stiffly sideways, 
and came trotting in. The shadow of the house 
reached, he dropped the gopher, carefully turn¬ 
ing it over on its back, and lay down beside it, 
to cool off and rest. Then off he would go for 
another. 

He kept this up day after day, sometimes 
having as many as a dozen around the place 
at once. As often as the creatures managed to 
flop over so they could use their feet again 



BRUNO 


61 


and start to escape, Bruno, yelping and bark¬ 
ing, brought them back, and turned them on 
their backs. 

Sometimes, when he returned after a pro¬ 
tracted hunt, bringing in a fresh victim, he 
found several of them escaping at once. Then 
he would hurriedly drop his latest catch, to 
speed away, tracking the truants until they 
were all found and recaptured, to be brought 
back and nosed over again. 

He never wearied of this sport, and after our 
house was finished, and a well-stocked Chick¬ 
en-park” was added to our estate, we bought a 
large camp-kettle, which we arranged on bricks 
in a secluded place; in this we would heat 
water and cook Bruno’s gophers, so that he 
and the hens had constant feasts of them and 
throve apace. 



62 


BRUNO 


CHAPTER X 

J ULIUS and I always like to experiment 
with new articles of food. We have no 
sympathy with the kind of fussiness that travels 
around the world with its own lunch-box, dis¬ 
daining everything strange or new. It is to us 
part of the charm of changed surroundings to 
test the native articles of diet. 

We had tried roast ’possum and stewed 
gopher; we now began to long for a taste of 
alligator steak. We had heard that to be at 
all eatable the steak must be taken from the 
fleshy part of the tail of a young animal before 
the creature grows large enough to lose its 
shiny skin; so we were quite delighted one day 
when we found that Bruno had cornered a 
young one about four feet long. It was in a 
little glade about three hundred yards from the 
house; and as soon as Julius found the cause 
of Bruno’s excitement, he hurried to the house 
for the axe, and soon put a stop to the creature’s 
demonstrations. He was hissing at Bruno like 




lie was hissing at 


Bruno.— -Page 













BRUNO 


63 


a whole flock of geese, the while snapping at 
him with his teeth and striking at him with 
his tail, which he had a most astonishing way 
of flourishing around. 

When the steak was cut the meat looked 
white and fine-grained, like the more delicate 
kinds of fish. When cooked it was very invit¬ 
ing, being a compromise between fish and the 
white meat of domestic fowls. 

We enjoyed it very much and were loud in 
our praises of alligator steak, but—we didn’t 
want any more! 

I cooked the rest of it for Bruno, and he ate 
one more meal of it; then he struck. We 
have since heard that most people who try 
alligator steak have the same experience. A 
first meal is thoroughly enjoyed, but one not 
brought up on such a diet never gets beyond the 
second. It is a useful article of food in southern 
camp-life, because it makes the campers go back 
to bacon and beans with renewed relish. The 
same may be said of roast ’possum and stewed 
gopher,—that is, for the human campers. 

Just before our house was ready for us, while 
we were still living in the little shanty, I noticed 
one night when Julius came in that he was 
empty-handed. He had been in the habit of 



64 


BRUNO 


bringing his tools home every evening; so I 
asked,— 

“What have you done with the saws and 
things ?” 

“I left them under the building/’ he answered, 
“wrapped in an old coat I had there. They 
will be perfectly safe, and I am tired of carrying 
them.” 

I was always glad when he had discovered 
an easier way of doing things; so I made no 
objection to this, and went on preparing the 
evening meal, for which we three were ready. 
Bruno had been over at the new house all the 
afternoon; so I waited on him first, seeing that 
his water-basin was full to the brim and heaping 
a plate with food for him. Then Julius and I 
sat down with keenest enjoyment to such a 
meal as we would have scorned in our old home, 
but which our open-air life in the pine-woods 
made exceedingly welcome. Afterwards I 
cleared the table, and we sat down to our 
usual evening of reading, interrupted with 
occasional snatches of conversation. 

Bruno lay at our feet—dozing when we 
were quiet, thumping the floor with his tail 
whenever we spoke. Towards nine o’clock he 
got up, shook himself, sighed deeply, then asked 



BRUNO 


65 


me in his usual manner to open the door for 
him. This was the way he asked. He rested 
his head on my knee until I looked up from 
my book. Then his tail began to wag, and he 
glanced quickly from me to the door, then 
back at me again. I asked,— 

“Boonie want to go ?” 

At this his tail wagged faster than ever, and 
he went to the door and stood waiting. Julius 
got up and opened the door for him; standing 
for a few moments after Bruno had disappeared 
in the darkness, looking at the stars and listen¬ 
ing to that sweet sound the pine-needles make 
when the wind blows through them. 

The night was rather cool, and it was not 
long before we both began to feel sleepy. 
Bruno had not returned; so Julius went to the 
door, whistling and calling to him. 

But there was no answer. 

We waited a little wdiile; then Julius said: 

“He will probably be here by the time we 
are ready to put out the lamp; so let’s to bed.” 

I felt troubled. It reminded me of the old 
days in Bruno’s giddy youth when he was off 
sheep-chasing. As I brushed out my hair, I 
was turning over in my mind all those vague 
fears I had felt when I had formerly dreamed 



66 


BRUNO 


of Florida as a country full of unknown dan¬ 
gers. At last I spoke,— 

“Julius, do you think a big alligator could 
have caught Bruno ?” 

“I don’t know,” answered Julius, slowly. 

Then I knew that he was worried too. 

When the lamp was out, Julius went to the 
door again and stood for some minutes whis¬ 
tling, calling, and listening; but no sound came 
except the pine murmurs and the mournful notes 
of a distant “Whip-Will’s-Widow.” 

It was impossible for us to sleep. Having 
always had Bruno at our bedside, we had 
never before felt uneasy, and had provided no 
way to lock our shanty. There was just an 
old-fashioned string-latch with a padlock out¬ 
side ; and here we were, deserted by our 
protector! 

Again and again through the night Julius 
got up to call and listen. 

Towards dawn we both slept heavily, worn 
out with anxious surmises. We were awak¬ 
ened by a well-known whining and scratching 
at the door, and when we both sprang up to 
open it, in walked Bruno, looking just as he 
usually did in the morning,—lively, glad to see 
us awake, and ready for his breakfast. 



BRUNO 


67 


We gave him a welcome so warm it sur¬ 
prised and delighted him, while we vainly 
questioned him for an explanation of his de¬ 
sertion of us for the night. It was of no use. 
We could see that he had not been running, 
but where had he been? We gave it up. 

Julius said his troubled night had left him 
without much appetite for work; but the man 
who w r as helping him would he there, so he 
thought it best to go over to the building, 
anyway. 

He surprised me by returning almost imme¬ 
diately. His face was lighted up and his eyes 
were dancing. 

“I came back to tell you where Bruno slept 
last night/’ he exclaimed. “You can’t guess!” 

“Ho,” I answered; “I have already given 
it up.” 

“He went back to watch those tools I left 
over at the building. He dug himself a nest 
right beside them, drawing the edge of my old 
coat around for his pillow. The prints are all 
there as plain as can be!” 

We were amazed and delighted at this per¬ 
formance ; the reasoning seemed so human. 
He had watched Julius arranging and leaving 
the tools, the while making up his own mind 



68 


BRUNO 


that it was an unwise thing to do, and evi¬ 
dently deciding to see to it later. His sitting 
with us till bedtime, keeping in mind his men¬ 
tal appointment, and then going forth without 
a word from any one to keep it, seemed to us 
to be a truly wonderful thing, and so it seems 
to me yet. 

From the first, we had made a constant com¬ 
panion of Bruno, talking to him always as if 
he could speak our language; and we have 
since thought that this must have been a sort 
of education for him, drawing out and develop¬ 
ing his own natural gifts of thought and reason. 
He often surprised us by joining in the conver¬ 
sation. He would he lying dozing, and we 
talking in our usual tones. If we mentioned 
Bobbie or Charlie, the two children who were 
his friends in his puppy days before he was our 
dog, or spoke of Leo, or of going somewhere, 
he would spring up all alert, running to the 
door or window, and then to us, whining and 
giving short barks of inquiry or impatience. 

Always, after that first time we had tried to 
give him away, he was subject to terrible night¬ 
mares. In his sleep he would whimper and 
sigh in a manner strangely like human sobbing. 
We thought at such times that he was going 



BRUNO 


69 


through those trying days again, in his dreams. 
So we always wakened him, petting and sooth¬ 
ing him till he fully realized that it was only a 
dream. 

He had other ways which we thought note¬ 
worthy. Although he loved Julius better than 
he did me, yet he always came to me with his 
requests. If hungry or thirsty, he would come 
to me wagging his tail and licking his lips. 

Like “Polly,” his general term for food was 
cracker. If I asked, “Boonie want a cracker ?” 
and if it was hunger, he would yawn in a 
pleased, self-conscious manner, and run towards 
the place where he knew the food was kept. If 
I had misunderstood his request, he continued 
gazing at me, licking his lips and wagging his 
tail till I asked, “Boonie want a drink ?” Then 
he would yawn and run towards his water-cup, 
which I would find to be empty. 

Often, when he had made his wants known 
to me, I passed them on to Julius, who would 
wait on him; but it made no difference; the 
next time he came to me just the same. He 
seemed to have reasoned it out that I was the 
loaf-giver, as the old Saxons had it, or else he 
felt that I was quicker to enter into his feelings 
and understand his wishes. 



70 


BRUNO 


CHAPTER XI 

N OT long after Bruno’s self-imposed night 
watch we found ourselves settled on 
our own estate, ready to carry out our plans for 
the future. Briefly they were as follows. We 
had intended to make an orange-grove, and 
while it was coming to maturity, we expected 
to raise early vegetables to ship to northern 
markets. We brought with us only money 
enough to make our place and live for a year: 
by that time we had fully expected to have 
returns from vegetable shipments which would 
tide us over till another crop. We had plenty 
of faith and courage, and were troubled by no 
doubts as to the feasibility of our plans. Hor 
need we have been, if only our land had con¬ 
tained the proper elements for vegetable grow¬ 
ing. It was good enough orange land, but it 
would be a long time before we could depend 
on oranges for an income. 

All this time we had been learning many 
things, taking care, as we began to understand 



BRUNO 


71 


the situation, to go to practical doers for advice 
instead of to visionary talkers. 

There began to be serious consultations in 
our little home circle. The year was drawing 
to a close, and our whole crop of vegetables 
would not have filled a two-quart measure. We 
had gone on with our planting, even after we 
felt it to be hopeless, because we did not dare 
to stop and listen to our fears. It is not strange 
that we felt depressed and disappointed. We 
could see that our plans could easily have been 
carried out, had we only known just what sort 
of land to select. The whole State was before 
us to choose from, but w 7 e had been misled 
through the romances of a dreamer of dreams. 
All we had to show for our money, time, and 
labor was a small house surrounded by trees 
so young that they were at least five years from 
yielding us an income, and there w r as no more 
money for experiments. 

For a while we felt rather bitter towards our 
misleading adviser, but I know now that we 
were wrong to feel so. A man can give only 
what he has. “Out of the fulness of the heart 
the mouth speaketh.” A dreamer of dreams 
has only visions to offer to his followers, surely 
landing them either in the briers of difficulty 
or the mires of discouragement. 



72 


BRUNO 


One day Julius returned from the nearest 
large town, where he had been for supplies, 
with an unusually thoughtful countenance. 
As soon as his purchases were unloaded and 
the horse had been attended to, he came in and, 
drawing a chair beside my work-table, opened 
the conversation with these memorable words: 

“Judith, how would you like to go up to 
Lemonville to live V 9 

“What makes you ask?” questioned I. “It 
depends altogether on the circumstances how 
I’d like to live there.” 

“Well, Hawkes bantered me to-day to come 
up and keep his books for him, and I have been 
considering it all the way home. It looks like 
a way out, and I ? ll declare I don’t see any 
other!” 

“Go back to office work!” I exclaimed; “I 
thought you were done with that sort of thing!” 

“I thought so, too; but after a year of this 
sort of thing, it begins to look quite different.” 

We sat up late, discussing this plan in all 
its bearings. Bruno seemed to know that it 
was a crisis in our affairs, and sat on end facing 
us, wrinkling his brows and looking from one 
to the other as each spoke. We finally decided 
that Julius was to go back to town in a day or 
two, and investigate further. 



BRUNO 


73 


When Julius returned from Lemonville three 
days later, he brought us the news that he had 
promised to give the position a trial, and that 
he had engaged temporary quarters for us in a 
new house near the office. Moreover, we were 
to move up there the following week, as Mr. 
Hawkes was impatient for his help. 

While we felt relieved at this decision, there 
was still something very sad about the breaking 
up. We had builded so many hopes into our 
pine-woods home, which had seemed to us to 
be guarded by a “standing army” of giants 
carrying silver banners, especially imposing 
on moonlight nights when the wind kept the 
banners of moss swaying under the immense 
pine-trees. 

We had seen it in imagination blossoming as 
the rose, a quiet little nest, far from the mad¬ 
ding crowd. And now to abandon it at the 
beginning and go back to village life,—it was 
leaving poetry for the flattest of prose. 

The first step towards breaking up was to 
dispose of our fowls. This was soon arranged, 
and when the cart came to carry them off, 
Bruno watched the loading of, them with the 
keenest interest, turning his head sideways, 
with alert ears, and catching his lip between his 



74 


BRUNO 


side teeth when a hen squawked, as was his 
way when nervous. At last they were all in 
the coop. The driver mounted to his seat, and 
started off. Bruno trotted along after him, 
evidently not understanding that they were no 
longer our chickens. He thought it was the 
beginning of the move he had heard us discuss. 
He followed along for perhaps a quarter of a 
mile. All at once he stopped and looked back; 
he saw us standing and looking after him. It 
was a dilemma. He looked after the receding 
wagon, then back at us, then at the wagon 
again. Then he turned and galloped back, 
stomach to earth, and bounded up to us, yelp¬ 
ing and panting, while we explained that they 
were not our chickens any more; they were 
sold, and had gone away to live in another 
home. 

The poultry disposed of, we began hurriedly 
to make ready for our own departure. It took 
a whole long day to pack our books, but we 
soon stowed our other things, and inside of the 
agreed time we were transferred and settled in 
the three rooms Julius had engaged. 

There was a. sitting-room below, which we 
used also as a dining-room, with a small kitchen 
behind it. Over the sitting-room we had a 



BRUNO 


75 


large chamber. The front windows of this 
room gave on the sloping roof which covered 
a lower porch. This seemed to meet Bruno’s 
views; he at once sprang through one of the 
windows, and took possession of it as a loung- 
ing-place—airy and cool. 

Again and again friends we had made in our 
sylvan retreat, who came up to town to visit 
us, said,— 

“I found where you lived by seeing your 
dog on the porch-roof.” 

The house stood on rising ground and could 
be seen from almost any part of the village; 
so we found Bruno quite useful as a door-plate 
in a town where there were as yet no street 
names nor numbers. 

We do not like living in the homes of other 
people, so as soon as possible we made arrange¬ 
ments for two town lots, and put up a little 
cottage. 



76 


BRUNO 


CHAPTER XII 

O NE day Julius came home with invita¬ 
tions for a ball in honor of the Governor, 
to be given in an ambitious embryo city across 
the lake. He had learned that the little steamer 
was to make an extra night-trip across on pur¬ 
pose to accommodate those who wished to at¬ 
tend, and that some of our friends had planned 
to go in company, and wished us to join their 
party. We had long intended to take the 
steamer trip across the lake; the Governor’s 
ball sounded inviting, also the night crossing 
with our friends. We decided to accept. 

The evening fell rather threatening, with 
flurries of wind and rain. Still we were 
undaunted, and kept hoping it would clear 
off. 

I filled Bruno’s basin and platter, telling him 
he must take care of the house and be a good 
dog. He seemed to understand all about it, 
and stood at the window after we had locked 
him in, watching us go with perfect composure. 



BRUNO 


77 


It was still twilight when we started, and we 
could see his eyes shining through the glass, as 
long as the house was in sight. 

The weather, meantime, had not improved, 
and had we not promised to go, we should cer¬ 
tainly have given it up. 

When we reached the wharf, we found that 
the little steamer’s cabin was in the sole posses¬ 
sion of our party, all the others having backed 
out on account of the weather. 

We kept up each other’s spirits with all sorts 
of absurdities, and the boat was soon ploughing 
a foamy track across the big waves. 

As soon as we steamed out from behind a 
point of land that sheltered the wharf, we were 
met by a gale of wind that made the little 
stamer reel and tremble as if from the shock 
of a collision. The lights were all promptly 
extinguished, as the doors were forced open by 
fierce winds, while we huddled together in a 
corner, and laughingly reminded each other that 
it was a “pleasure exertion.” 

I shudder now whenever I think of that night, 
though at the time we did not know enough 
about the possibilities to be frightened. 

How the little boat pitched and tossed! The 
waves washed its lower decks, again and again 




78 


BRUNO 


putting out the engine fires; we meanwhile 
rolling in the trough of the sea until they could 
be rekindled. We had expected to cross in 
about three quarters of an hour, and return 
soon after midnight; but it was along towards 
the wee sma’ hours when we reached the other 
shore. Then, when we heard the crew con¬ 
gratulating each other, exchanging experiences, 
and telling what they had expected to see hap¬ 
pen to all concerned every time big waves had 
washed out the fire, we for the first time fully 
realized the risks we had taken in crossing. 

We were weary enough not to be sorry that 
the ball was already over. We looked in at its 
departed glories for a few minutes; and then, 
finding it would he impossible to start back 
home before broad daylight, began to look for 
a lodging-place. 

The town was filled with people who had 
driven in from the surrounding country for the 
ball, but we succeeded in getting two small 
top-story rooms in the hotel, which were vacated 
for us by some sort of “doubling-up” among 
the good-natured guests. The three men of our 
party took one, and we three women the other. 

It was about three o’clock when we retired to 
our room, and while the other two slept on the 



BRUNO 


79 


one bed, I sat by the window trying to burry 
the dawn; wondering w T hat Bruno was think¬ 
ing, and how we should look, a party of people 
clothed in evening array, returning home in 
broad daylight. As if we had made a night of 
it, surely! I chuckled to myself as I compared 
our plight with that of Cinderella. 

We met at breakfast in the hotel dining¬ 
room, a queer-looking crowd. As we laughed 
at each other’s appearance, it was hard for each 
to realize that he or she looked just as absurd; 
but an unprejudiced observer would have found 
little to choose between us. As soon as the 
meal was over, the three men started out to 
find a way to get us all home again. Every¬ 
thing seemed to conspire to delay us, and it 
was half-past twelve at noon when we entered 
our own gate, the click of the latch bringing 
Bruno’s face to the window with a series of 
joyful barks. 

Poor fellow! His long confinement to the 
house, his empty plate and bowl, his joyful 
reception of us, and then his springing out to 
dash round and round the lot, filled our hearts 
with compassion. 

As soon as his first burst of enthusiasm was 
over, he came in, and crept up to me with 



80 


BRUNO 


dejected ears and tail, which in his language 
meant “mea culpa.” I asked,— 

“What is it, Boonie? What’s Boonie been 
doing ?” 

Still lower sank head and tail, and his knees 
began to weaken. I made a hasty survey of 
the sitting-room, and then I understood. He 
had slept on the lounge, a thing he was strictly 
forbidden to do. 

“Oh, Boonie!” I cried, “you naughty dog! 
Judith thought she could trust you!” 

At this his knees gave way, and he sank to 
the floor utterly dejected. He would not rise, 
nor even look up, until I had forgiven and com¬ 
forted him. 

The next time we had to leave him alone in 
the house, I built a “booby-trap,” with two 
light chairs on the lounge, which left him look¬ 
ing so utterly crushed that I never had the 
heart to do it again. But he never more trans¬ 
gressed in that way, so I felt that I had dealt 
wisely with him. 

It was a hard necessity which forced us to 
shut him up when we were going where it 
would not do to take him. At first we had 
tried leaving him outside; but we found that 
after we had been gone awhile, his heart was 



BRUNO 


81 


always sure to fail him, and he would track us, 
turning up invariably just in time to cover us 
with confusion, his own dejected mien saying 
plainly,— 

“I know this is against orders, but I just had 
to do it.” 

He had a wonderful development of con¬ 
science. We sometimes thought that this, as 
well as the other mental gifts of which he 
showed himself to be possessed, were due to the 
shape of his head. His nose was very short, 
and his forehead unusually high and well- 
rounded. Of course his life as a close com¬ 
panion to humans and as a full member of a 
family circle, was calculated to foster these 
mental gifts; but they were surely there, to 
begin with. We might treat dozens of dogs 
just as we treated Bruno, without developing 
another that would compare with him. He was 
unique; and I shall always glory in the fact 
that he loved and trusted us. His was a love 
not to be lightly won, nor, once given, ever to 
be recalled. 



82 


BRUNO 


CHAPTER XIII 

T X spite of our suug little home in Lemon- 
A ville, we never felt quite settled there. 
We were not built for village life. Country 
life is good, and city life is good; but in a vil¬ 
lage one has all the drawbacks of both, with 
the rewards of neither. So it was not long 
before we resolved on another change. 

We sold our little home furnished, packed up 
our books, with a few other personal belong¬ 
ings, and turned our faces toward St. Augus¬ 
tine, to investigate several openings there, of 
which w T e had chanced to hear. We were so 
fortunate as to be able to rent a small cottage, 
and at once took possession, furnishing it from 
our trunks, only buying a few necessary articles 
of the plainest kind. 

Just as we had settled ourselves in these 
temporary quarters, a matter of business came 
up, making necessary a return to Lemonville 
for a day or two. The trip was both tedious 
and expensive, so after some discussion we 



So delightfully and naturally told that it cannot fail to 
interest the reader of any age.—St. Louis Globe-Democrat. 


BRUNO 

By 

BYRD SPILMAN DEWEY 
18 mo. decorated cloth, $1.25 

Fourth Edition—Illustrated by Calvert Smith 

Her hero, Bruno,—loyal, affectionate, keen-eyed, and 
intelligent,—is a real dog.—Buffalo Express. 

As simple, charming, and convincing a bit of canine 
biography as is to be found in our literature.—Chicago 
Chronicle. 

Deserves to be classed with “Rab and His Friends.” 
* * * One is not obliged to be a lover of animals to 

appreciate Bruno’s friendship and the honesty of purpose 
and delightful comradeship which this little book discloses. 
—Boston Herald. 

A narrative of more than usual interest. — Rochester 
Herald. 


Foote and Davies Co., Atlanta, Georgia. 
Publishers. 





BRUNO 


The narrative is one which at once moves, amuses, and 
instructs; one, too, that no properly minded reader can 
peruse without feeling the better for it.—San Francisco 
Bulletin. 

A story of many charms. * * * * The author knew 
him from start to finish, and loved him, and is therefore 
able to talk about him with intelligence and appreciation 
until every dog owner and admirer feels that he has a 
personal interest in Bruno, who reminds him most for¬ 
cibly of his own dog.—Chicago Evening Post. 

It is destined to become as popular as “Black Beauty,” 
one would imagine.—St. Louis Globe-Democrat. 

Promises to do for the dog what “Black Beauty” has 
done for the horse—teach children to love the faithful 
creatures who number themselves among man’s best 
friends.—Denver Republican. 

Stories like this, with a real love and sympathy for ani¬ 
mals, are the best stories for children, and come next in 
value to friendship for the real animal.—Springfield Re¬ 
publican. 

The biography of a devoted and lovable dog, told with 
the simplicity of real power.—The Gentlewoman, N. Y. 

Bruno almost barks a welcome from these pages.—Phil¬ 
adelphia Bulletin. 

Told with a delightful appreciation of the canine tem¬ 
perament.—New Orleans Picayune. 





BRUNO 


He seems so real that he reminds one of others of his 
kind. * * * * Incidentally, the story tells, too, of a home 
life which forms an idyl of itself.—Christian Register, 

Boston. 

The story of a pet dog whose master and mistress took 
him from the north of Florida, and lived in various parts 
of that state in town and country. * * * *A very touching, 
interesting record, charmingly told in every way.—Chi¬ 
cago Chronicle. 

Will at once engage the interest and sympathy. Has 
done the world a service.—Washington Times. 

Well and interestingly told. * * * * It cannot fail to 
find admirers among the younger readers.—Sacred Heart 
Review, Boston. 

In “Bruno” there is shown the mind of an artist with 
keen sympathy for and understanding of animal nature. 
The result is that “Bruno,” half setter and half water- 
spaniel, takes hold on one’s affections.—Art Interchange. 

La lecture de “Bruno” m’a procure deux heures d’un 
plaisir sans melange. C’est la biographie d’un chien, mais 
c’est plus encore, c’est la vie d’un ami fiddle tendrement 
fondue dans celle de deux etres aimants et sympathiques. 
Les larmes et la joie y sont brodes en de petits tableaux 
de genre de la plus exquise harmonie.—J. L. Borgerhoff, 
formerly editor of La Vie Mondaine, Paris. 





BRUNO 


Have you read Bruno? Many thousands of persons 
have—a hundred thousand or more young and old through¬ 
out the land finding it the simplest, sweetest, tenderest 
story of a dog ever told.—Vogue. 

In these days w r hen so much is heard of so many books 
when they are about to be printed or put on the book¬ 
seller’s counter—and when, alas! so little is ever heard of 
so many of them afterward—it is something to meet a 
volume which, without any sort of advertisement at its 
birth, grows steadily through the years to the celebrity 
of a prized little classic.—Pittsburgh Dispatch. 

BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
THE BLESSED ISLE AND ITS HAPPY FAMILIES, 
thirty-five illustrations from 
photographs. 

PETER, THE TRAMP; first edition published by Animal 
Protective League, of New York, second edition “Made 
in Florida.” Contains also, REBECCA, Post Script to 
BRUNO; both illustrated. 

ROMANCE OF OLD LAKE WORTH DAYS, illustrated 
booklet; second printing. 

FLYING BLOSSOM, illustrated booklet. 

THE TALE OF SATAN, illustrated Booklet; second 
edition. 

O YOUTH ETERNAL, booklet; third printing. 

WHO SEEKS FINDS, booklet. Fourth printing. 


For Sale by 

O’NEAL-BRANCH COMPANY—Orlando, Fla. 
DREWS, Jacksonville, Florida. 

AND 

FOOTE & DAVIES COMPANY, 
Atlanta. 





BRUNO 


8 : 


decided that Bruno and I should stay and keep 
house, while Julius made the trip alone “light 
weight.” 

I had some trouble in persuading Julius that 
I should be perfectly safe in Bruno’s care. He 
wished us to close the cottage, and go to some 
one of the many pleasant hoarding-places, where 
we had friends or acquaintances stopping. This 
I should certainly have done, had I been alone; 
but I reminded Julius how more than able 
Bruno was to take care of me, and how much 
trouble he always gave in a strange house. So 
he was finally persuaded that it would be best 
for us to stay in the cottage. 

Julius left on a noon train, carrying only a 
small hand-bag. When he said good-by to us, 
he impressed this on Bruno’s mind,—“Take 
good care of Judith.” 

Bruno stood at the door with me, watching 
him out of sight, then breathed a deep sigh, 
and crept off under the bed to have it out with 
himself alone and unseen. I busied myself 
picking up the articles which had been scattered 
in the confusion of packing, then sat down to 
drown thought in a book. 

Towards evening I had a caller. One of our 
friends, who had seen Julius, bag in hand, at 



84 


BRUNO 


the station, and had thus learned that I was 
alone, sent a message by her little son that I 
was to “come right around” to their house for 
the night. I sent our thanks, with further 
message that Bruno and I had agreed to take 
care of each other. The child went home; 
then his mother came. She thought I “must 
be crazy” to think of staying alone. She 
“wouldn’t do it for any money.” I assured 
her I was not staying alone, and had some 
trouble to convince her that I could not possi¬ 
bly be more safely guarded than by Bruno. I 
assured her, further, that nothing would now 
induce me to lock up the house and leave it, 
for it would be impossible to know just when 
Julius would return; he would be sure to catch 
the first boat and train after his business was 
finished, and I would not for anything have 
him return to find his nest deserted. 

I succeeded, at last, in quieting all of her 
kind objections, and was left in peace. 

Darkness came on, and then Bruno lost cour¬ 
age. As I was preparing his evening meal, he 
ran to meet me as I crossed the room, and rais¬ 
ing himself to an upright position, he rested his 
paws on my shoulders and gazed with mournful 
questioning into my eyes. I knew what he 



BRUNO 


85 


would say, and sitting down, I drew his head 
to my knee, and told him all about it,—that 
Julius would only stay a little, little while,” then 
he would come back and “stay—stay—stay 
always with us.” His ears rose and fell, his 
forehead wrinkled and unwrinkled as I talked 
to him. Then he seemed comforted, and ate a 
good supper. 

I sat reading far into the night, until the 
letters began to blur. Bruno sat beside me, 
sometimes with his head on my knee while I 
stroked his silken ears,—which always sug¬ 
gested the wavy locks of a red-haired girl,— 
and sometimes he lay at full length on the 
floor, with his head against my feet. 

As midnight tolled, I closed my book, cov¬ 
ered up the fire, and tried to go to sleep, with 
Bruno lying on the rug beside my bed. When¬ 
ever I stirred, he got up, and putting his fore¬ 
feet on the side of the bed, reached his head 
over for me to stroke it. It was the first time I 
had ever spent a night in a house with no other 
humans, and Bruno seemed to enter thoroughly 
into my feelings. 

I lay listening to the breakers booming on 
the outer bar, wondering how far on his journey 
Julius could be. 



86 


BRUNO 


Dawn looked in at me before I fell asleep; 
then I knew nothing until aroused by Bruno’s 
barks, to find that some one was rapping on the 
front door. 

After hastily putting on a dressing-gown, I 
investigated through a crack made by holding 
the door slightly ajar, and found that the same 
kind friends had sent to see how I had spent 
the night. I gave a glowing account of our 
comfort and security, for my morning nap had 
thoroughly rested and refreshed me; then I 
hastened to prepare some breakfast for Bruno, 
meanwhile letting him out for a run in the lot. 

After the small household duties were at¬ 
tended to, I had sat down to finish some souve¬ 
nirs I was painting for one of the shops, when 
I heard a great din and clatter outside. Bruno, 
who was sitting beside me, gravely watching 
my work, while now and then he gave a dis¬ 
gusted snort as he got a good whiff of the tur¬ 
pentine I was using to thin my paints, started 
up, barking and bounding towards the closed 
door. I sprang to open it, and was met on the 
very threshold by a trembling, half-grown deer. 
The gate was open, showing how it had entered, 
and there, hesitating at the sight of Bruno and 
me, was a motley crowd of boys and dogs. I 



BRUNO 


87 


at once grasped the situation. Many people in 
St. Augustine had such pets, and I was sure 
this one must have escaped from the grounds of 
its owner, to fall into the hands of the rabble. 

I hurried out to shut the gate. Most boys 
are more or less cruel; and these were Spanish 
boys. When I returned to the porch, Bruno 
and the deer were regarding each other 
with mutual doubts. I settled Bruno’s at once 
by laying my hand on his head while T stroked 
our gentle visitor, saying,— 

“Pretty deer, Boonie mustn’t hurt it!” 

The deer seemed satisfied too, and to feel 
that danger was past. I brought water, and 
everything I could think of to offer it to eat. 
It was too warm with running to want food, 
though, and only took a few swallows of water. 
Its lovely, deep eyes suggested all sorts of 
romantic thoughts. Of course I quoted, a Come 
rest in this bosom,” and “I never nursed a dear 
gazelle.” I was sure its name should be Juanita, 
after the girl in the sweet Spanish song. 

All day the pretty creature roamed about our 
little enclosure, Bruno and I attending to its 
wants as best we could, having had no experi¬ 
ence in catering for such guests. 



88 


BRUNO 


It turned quite chilly towards evening. When 
I had shut all the doors and built up the fire, 
I heard a clatter of small hoofs on the porch- 
floor, and there stood Juanita, looking wist¬ 
fully in through the window. Bruno and I 
looked at each other, thoroughly perplexed. 
We were not prepared for such a hint. I 
thought afterwards it must have been taken as 
a baby-deer, and raised indoors “by hand.” 

We went out and prepared a warm bed for it 
in the wood-shed back of the house. It seemed 
quite satisfied with this arrangement, and set¬ 
tled down cosily as we left it and returned to 
our fireside. We spent this evening and night 
as we had the previous one, and were aroused 
very early in the morning by the sound of 
Juanita’s impatient little hoofs on the porch 
floor. I had just finished feeding her and 
Bruno, when I heard the gate-latch click. I 
looked out. A colored girl was coming up the 
walk. 

“Mawnin’, Lady,” she said; “ole Miss hyud 
our deer was hyuh. Dali you is, you good-f’- 
nuffin’ ole runaway! Thanky, Lady. Come 
on, Billy!” And hitting him a resounding slap 
on the back, she went off, accompanied by our 
romantic Juanita, transformed into meek and 
prosy Billy. 



BRUNO 


89 


Thus perish our illusions! 

Bruno was inclined to resent this unceremo¬ 
nious taking off of our pet, and began to growl; 
but as soon as I recovered from the mingled 
emotions which at first had rendered me speech¬ 
less, I realized from Billy’s actions that he and 
the colored girl were old friends; so I silenced 
him by saying,'— 

“Never mind, Boonie, it wasn’t our deer; it 
only came for a little visit, and now it’s going 
home.” Then we stood watching graceful Billy 
and his uncouth companion till they disap¬ 
peared through the old City Gates. 

Late that evening, Bruno having had his 
supper, I sat by the fire sipping a cup of choco¬ 
late, and thinking those tender, half-melancholy 
thoughts we are apt to have at twilight when 
separated from those beloved. 

All at once I heard the gate click. Bruno 
sprang up, thrilled and alert. A footstep on 
the walk—ah, Bruno knew it, even before I 
did, and was so eager to get out that he almost 
held the door shut in his excitement. We 
finally got it open, and there, weary, eager, and 
travel-stained, was Julius! Before his lips 
reached my face, I mentally exclaimed,— 

“How glad I am that Bruno and I have stayed 




90 


BRUNO 


here, instead of leaving a shut-up house, where 
he would have to drop his bag and start out to 
look for us!” 

That moment, when I felt his arms around 
me and heard his words of joy mingled with 
Bruno’s ecstatic yelps, paid for all of our end¬ 
less, lonely hours. I dare say there was not in 
all the world a happier group of three than sat 
before our open fire that night. 

Every time Bruno dozed, he would awaken 
with a start, and go to sniff and paw at Julius 
to make sure it wasn’t a dream, that he really 
had come back to us. 

Julius reported his business successfully con¬ 
cluded; a change in one of the time-tables had 
enabled him to get hack sooner than we had 
dared to hope. 

The next day I received his letter, telling me 
to look for him by the train on which he had 
come the night before! 

In those days our mail not infrequently took 
an ocean voyage on its way from one Florida 
town to another quite near by, so we were never 
surprised at anything in the mail line,—except 
a prompt delivery! 



BRUNO 


91 


CHAPTER XIV 

T T was shortly after the events related in the 
last chapter that we came to a final deci¬ 
sion against the various business openings we 
had been investigating in St. Augustine, and 
concluded to go on to Jacksonville. We dis¬ 
posed of the few things we had bought for our 
little cottage, and when we again found our¬ 
selves on the train with our household gods, I 
gave us both a fit of merriment by quoting the 
words of poor little Joe in “Bleak House,”— 
“Wisht I may die if I ain’t a-movin’ on.” 

It was by this time mid-season, and Jackson¬ 
ville was full of tourists. It was then very 
popular as a winter resort, Southern Florida 
was not much known; so we had some difficulty 
in finding a place to live. 

We decided to get just one room somewhere, 
and board at a restaurant till the city emptied 
so we could secure a cottage. 

The first room we found that would do, was 
too far from the business part of town; so we 
took it for only a month, and kept on looking. 



92 


BRUNO 


We heard of one, at last, which seemed close 
to everything. It proved to be large, lofty, and 
pleasant, with a glimpse of the river from its 
front windows. 

The house was well recommended to us by 
the few business acquaintances Julius had made, 
though they all confessed that such places were 
constantly changing hands and inmates and 
that it was hard to keep up with them. Time 
pressed, and nothing better offered; so we 
moved in. It was entirely bare; so we bought 
some furniture, and, as it was rather a long room 
for its breadth, we managed, with a screen or 
two, to make it seem like three rooms. 

When all was in place, it was really quite 
inviting. I had a small lamp stove, so we need 
only go out for dinners. We began to feel 
more settled than for a long time, especially, as 
Julius had in the mean time found a business 
opening which was entirely satisfactory. We 
saw nothing at all of the other lodgers; but this 
did not disturb us, as we were in no hurry to 
make acquaintances. We felt that it was best 
to be circumspect in a city of this size and 
make-up. 

Our evenings were our pleasantest times, sit¬ 
ting on either side of the reading-lamp, with 



BRUNO 


93 


Bruno stretched at our feet; so I was inclined 
to object one evening, when Julius announced 
at dinner that he had promised to give a few 
hours to helping a young friend of his to 
straighten out his accounts. He had promised, 
though; so I had to yield. He set off betimes, 
so as to be home earlier. I locked the door 
after him, as I always did, and began to make 
myself as comfortable as possible for a quiet 
hour or two, with a new magazine. 

Before I had finished cutting the leaves, I 
was struck with surprise at Bruno’s actions. 
He crept in a very stealthy manner to the door, 
and stood there in an attitude of listening, with 
every nerve and muscle tense. 

I watched him a minute, and then asked,— 

“What is it, Boonie?” 

He did not look around; he waved his tail 
once or twice, then resumed his tense pose. 
Thoroughly surprised, I went softly to him, 
and stood also listening. I could hear nothing 
but a faint rustling, a suppressed whispering, 
and the soft click of a latch. I touched Bruno’s 
head; he looked up at me, and I saw he was 
holding his lip between his side-teeth, as he had 
a way of doing when he was very much puzzled 
or excited. 



94 


BRUNO 


I tried to coax him away from the door, but 
he refused to come. I made sure the bolt was 
shot, and then sat down at a little distance to 
watch him. There was a door in the middle of 
one side of the room, which, when we took 
possession, we had found to be nailed up. We 
utilized the recess with the aid of some dra¬ 
peries, as a place to hang clothing. Bruno went 
to this door, thrusting his head in among the 
clothes. 

He listened there for a long time, probably 
ten minutes; he returned again to the other 
door; then he gave a low growl, followed by 
several half-suppressed barks, and lay down 
against it. 

I forgot all about my book, and sat watching 
to see what he would do next. The evening 
seemed endless. At last I heard Julius below 
in the hall; Bruno sprang up when I opened 
the door, and went clattering down the stairs to 
escort him up. It was not late, only about ten. 
I at once told Julius of the queer evening we 
had spent, and had the satisfaction of seeing 
him as thoroughly puzzled as I had been. We 
sat until a late hour discussing it, then gave it 
up as something quite beyond us. 

About three o’clock in the morning we were 



BRUNO 


95 


awakened by an alarm of fire. The room was 
full of light, and when we looked out of the 
window we found that it was close by—only 
about two squares away. It was a big blaze 
and, as it was on the opposite side of the street, 
we had a fine view of it. I was terribly fright¬ 
ened. My uneasiness earlier in the evening had 
unnerved me, and this terrible fire so near us 
upset me completely. A fire fills me with hor¬ 
ror, especially if it breaks out in the night: it 
always reminds me of the burning of a big 
steamer that happened one awful night in my 
tenth year. 

I watched the flames, fascinated by their lurid 
splendor; — imagining that the three white 
pigeons which had been awakened by the light 
and were circling around the tower of smoke— 
now hidden by it, and now silhouetted against 
it—were the souls of those who had perished 
in the flames. Overcome by horror, I finally 
exclaimed:— 

“Suppose it had been this big building that 
had caught fire !” 

“But it wasn’t,” said Julius. 

“Eo: but it might have been. I don’t like 
this at all. I want to be in a little house by 
ourselves, close to the ground.” 



96 


BRUNO 


“Yes, it would be better/’ said Julius, who 
saw by tbe light of the flames how pale I had 
become, and noted how I was trembling. “It 
will not do to have you so terrified: we’ll 
make a change at once. But it will be diffi¬ 
cult to find a house until the tourists begin to 
scatter.” 

We thoroughly discussed the situation, and 
by breakfast-time had reached a decision. 

I was to return to Lemonville for a stay of a 
week or two, and while there to see to the 
packing and shipping of a piano we had left in 
storage. Julius meanwhile was to find a cot¬ 
tage, and have our belongings transferred to it. 
We did not like the arrangement very well, but 
it seemed to be the only thing we could do. 

Thus ended our experience as lodgers. 

I was gone two weeks. It was pleasant to 
meet old friends, after a separation long enough 
to have plenty of news to exchange, without 
having had time to lose interest in each other’s 
affairs, but my heart was back in Jacksonville. 

Julius and I wrote to each other every day, 
but the mails were so tedious and uncertain 
that we usually got each other’s letters by 
threes or fours, with days full of anxiety and 
heart-ache between. 



BRUNO 


97 


I still have the package of letters received 
then. I have just been reading them over 
again. Bruno pervades them all. It is— 

“Took Bruno with me to the office to-day, he 
begged so hard when I started to leave him; 
it’s lonely for him, poor fellow!” 

And— 

“While I ate breakfast, I had the waiter put 
up a good lunch for Boonie; he’s getting tired 
of biscuit, and I don’t like to give him raw 
bones.” 

On Sunday,— 

“I took Bruno a long walk in the suburbs 
to-day. It did him a lot of good.” 

A letter written just before I returned 
says,— 

“Bruno seems down-hearted to-night; I think 
he misses somebody.” 

I returned as soon as Julius wrote that he had 
procured a house. The welcome I received 
told me that Bruno was not the only one who 
had missed “somebody.” 



98 


BRUNO 


CHAPTER XV 


A that season we lived in a rented cot- 
-I tage, but before the next summer came 
we were planting roses in our own grounds. 
We had been renting just about a year, when 
we bought our little home in one of the suburbs; 
so we could fully appreciate the joys of being 
on our own place again. 

We found a kitten, the “very moral” of 
Rebecca, striped black and blue-gray. She was 
a dear little thing, and she and Bruno soon 
became fast friends. 

The only creature we ever knew him to bite 
—except, indeed, wild animals, which he con¬ 
sidered fair game—w r as in defending Catsie. 

His victim was a handsome coach-dog, fol¬ 
lowing some friends who one day drove out to 
call on us. He was a thoroughbred dog, but 
he had not Bruno’s gentlemanly instincts. 
The first thing he did was to go trotting 
around to the back porch, where he spied Catsie 
enjoying a fine meaty bone. He sneaked up 



BRUNO 


99 


behind her, and snatching it in his teeth, made 
off with it. 

Bruno could not stand that. It seemed to 
make a perfect fury of him. I think he felt 
that the fault was worse, because the coach-dog 
was so sleek and plump; there was not even the 
excuse of hunger. 

Poor fellow! Bruno sent him howling and 
limping from the yard. 

The call came to an untimely end, our visitors 
declaring,— 

“That great savage brute of yours has almost 
killed our beautiful dog!” 

I am afraid we did not feel very contrite. 
We never took our “great savage brute” any¬ 
where to visit, except when he was especially 
invited; and besides, we had our own opinion, 
wdiich was similar to Bruno’s, of big dogs that 
robbed little cats. 

It took a great deal to rouse Bruno, so much 
that we sometimes mistook his amiability for 
lack of courage. 

We had often watched him chasing the ani¬ 
mals that lax town laws had allowed to roam 
the streets of the only two villages we had ever 
known. He would go dashing after a pig or a 
cow. If the creature ran, he would chase it 



100 


BRUNO 


until he was exhausted; but if it stood its 
ground and calmly returned his excited gaze, 
he would stop, look at it for a minute, then 
turn and come trotting back, with an air that 
said plainly,— 

“I was only in fun; I wanted to see what it 
would do.” 

There was a big watch-dog which lived in an 
enclosure we had to pass on our way to town. 
When we took Bruno that way for a stroll, as 
soon as he reached this lot, he and the other 
dog would greet each other through the picket- 
fence with the most blood-curdling growls and 
snarls. They seemed fairly to thirst for each 
other’s life-blood. Then,' each on his own side 
of the fence, they would go racing along, keep¬ 
ing up their growls and snarls, till they reached 
a place where there were half a dozen pickets 
broken out, so that either could have leaped 
through with ease. 

Then what a change! 

Their ears would droop, and their coats and 
tempers smooth down to the most insipid ami¬ 
ability. But at their next meeting they were 
quite as savage, till they again reached the 
opening in the fence. It was the same pro¬ 
gram, over and over. 



BRUNO 


101 


Bruno liked to play at anger just for a little 
excitement, but when he found anything really 
worth a spell of the furies, it was quite another 
story. 

The butcher-boy, who came every other day, 
took Bruno’s tragic demonstrations for the real 
thing, and was terribly afraid of him. He used 
to shout to me, “Come out and hold the dog!” 
until he could run to the kitchen and get safely 
back outside the gate. 

It was all in vain for me to assure him there 
was no danger. He thought I did not know 
what I was talking about. His terror was so 
real, I pitied the child—he was not more than 
twelve or fourteen—so I used to shut Bruno 
up in the front hall on butcher-boy days until 
after he had made his call. 

Our colored woman used to spend her nights 
in the bosom of her family, coming back every 
morning in time to get breakfast. One morn¬ 
ing she failed to appear. It was butcher-boy 
morning, and the weather was quite chilly. 
When I called Bruno in to shut him up, I 
noticed that the house next to ours was closed. 
Our neighbors were off for the day. There 
were two vacant lots opposit our place, and on 
the other side, a church. So when our neigh- 



102 


BRUNO 


bors went off for a day’s jaunt, as they fre¬ 
quently did, we were quite isolated. 

After I had shut Bruno in the hall, I sat 
down by the kitchen fire to toast my toes and 
wait for the butcher-boy. I was impatient for 
him to come, so I could release Bruno, who did 
not like being shut up. He was perfectly will¬ 
ing to lie in the hall,—in fact, it was a favorite 
dozing-place with him,—but, like some people, 
he did not enjoy the idea of being forced to do 
even what he liked best. I was glad when I 
heard a step on the back porch, and sprang 
eagerly to open the door. There stood the 
dirtiest, most evil-looking tramp I had ever 
seen. He was so taken aback at the way the 
door flew open, that I had slammed it and shot 
the bolt before he recovered. I hurried in for 
Bruno, who had heard the strange step and was 
eager to investigate. As soon as I returned 
and unfastened the bolt, the tramp threw his 
weight against the door to force it open. Bruno 
sprang to the opening with a whole volley of 
barks and growls. I caught his collar, saying 
to the tramp,— 

“You’d better run; I can’t hold him long!” 

I never saw a man make better time. I gave 
him a minute’s start, then loosed Bruno. He 



BRUNO 


103 


reached the fence just as the tramp had fallen 
over it without stopping to open the gate. 
When I saw all was safe, I felt so limp I fell 
back in a chair weak and nerveless. Bruno 
watched the tramp around the corner, then 
returned to look after me. He was much exer¬ 
cised to find me in such a state, and relieved 
his feelings by alternately trying to lick my 
face, and dashing out to bark again after the 
vanished tramp. 

After that, Bruno seemed to feel more than 
ever responsible for me. He had all along been 
my especial protector, but seeing me overcome 
with fright seemed to make a deep impression 
on him. 



104 


BRUNO 


CHAPTER XVI 

J ULIUS and I had been in the habit of taking 
evening walks, and as Bruno stayed with 
me through the day when Julius was gone, it 
was his only chance for a run. 

One evening, when Julius came home, it had 
been raining, and I felt that it would not do for 
me to go out. 

“You’d better take Boonie for a little run, 
though,” I said; “he has been in the house all 
day.” 

“I have an errand down at the corner,” an¬ 
swered Julius, “and he can race around the 
square while I am attending to it. You won’t 
be afraid ?” 

“Hot for that little while; you will be back 
again before I have time to miss you.” 

Julius went into the hall for his overcoat and 
hat. 

“Come on, Boonie,” he said; “Boonie can 
go.” 

Bruno bounced up, all excitement, showing 
how he had felt the confinement. He dashed 



BRUNO 


105 


into the hall, where Julius was putting on his 
overcoat, then came trotting back into the sit¬ 
ting-room and stood, ears erect, looking at me 
and wagging his tail. I understood him, and 
answered,— 

“No, Boonie; Judith must stay. Just Julius 
and Boonie are going.” 

He knew us only by the names he heard us 
call each other. 

He sat down at my feet, all his excitement 
gone. 

“Come, Boonie,” called Julius from the door. 
“Come on, Boonie’s going!” 

Bruno looked at him, wagged his tail, looked 
at me, and refused to stir. 

“Don’t you see ?” I said; “he thinks I ought 
not to be left alone.” Then to him, “Go on, 
Boonie; Boonie must go. Judith isn’t afraid.” 

He looked gratefully at me, and wagged his 
tail, saying plainly, in his dog-fashion,— 

“Thank you, but I’d rather not.” 

Julius waxed impatient. 

“You Boon! come along, sir! come on!” he 
thundered. Bruno’s ears and tail drooped. He 
looked up sideways in a deprecating manner 
at Julius, then came and laid his head on my 
knee. It was of no use. Neither threats nor 



106 


BRUNO 


coaxing could move him. Noble creature! His 
ideas of chivalry were not to be tampered with, 
even by those who were his gods, his all! 

The next morning at breakfast I said to 
J ulius,— 

“I am afraid Bruno will be ill staying in¬ 
doors so closely. Can’t you take him for a 
little run before you go to the office?” 

“Yes,” answered Julius, “I’ll take him if 
he’ll go.” 

“Oh, he’ll go fast enough. Dinah is here, 
and he will think it safe to leave me.” 

Bruno was delighted at the invitation, and 
went tearing around the square four times 
while Julius walked it once; then came in, hot 
and happy, to tell Catsie and me all about it. 

There was something so peculiarly tender 
about our feelings for Bruno and his for us. 
He was at once our protector and our depend¬ 
ent. It is not strange that we never failed to 
be thoroughly enraged when dog-lovers tried, 
as they sometimes did, to coax us to sell him. 
Sell our Bruno! True, we had tried to give 
him away, hut that was for his own good. 
But to take money for him! To sell him!! 
Unspeakable!!! 

Three times we had nursed him through try- 



BRUNO 


107 


ing illnesses—twice the blind staggers, and 
once the distemper; and when either of us was 
ill, he could not be coaxed from the bedside. 
No matter who watched at night, Bruno would 
watch too, and no slightest sound nor move¬ 
ment escaped his vigilance. 

How often since he left us have I longed in 
weary vigils for the comfort of his presence! 



108 


BRUNO 


CHAPTER XVII 

TN looking back at that winter, most of its 
-■* evenings seem to have been spent before the 
open fire, the room lighted only by its blaze. 

Sometimes Little Blossom lay across my 
knees, the firelight mirrored in her thoughtful 
eyes, her pink toes curling and uncurling to the 
heat. Sometimes she lay cradled in Julius’s 
arms, while he crooned old ditties remembered 
from his own childhood. 

Bruno never seemed to tire of studying this 
new-comer to our home circle. He would stand 
with ears drooped forward, watching me bathe 
and dress her, so absorbed in contemplation 
that he would start when I spoke, as if he had 
forgotten my existence. 

He had always before seemed intensely jeal¬ 
ous when Julius or I had noticed children, but 
with Little Blossom it was different; he seemed 
to share our feelings,—she was our baby. 

At first he showed a disposition to play with 
her as he had long ago romped with Rebecca’s 



BRUNO 


109 


kittens, but after I bad once explained to him 
that she was too little and tender for such 
frolics, that he must wait till she could run 
about, he seemed quite satisfied, and constituted 
himself her guardian, as he had always been 
mine. While she slept, he would lie beside her 
crib. When she took an airing, it was his 
delight to walk proudly beside the carriage. 
When I held her, he sat at my elbow; and when 
she laughed and cooed in her romps with Julius, 
he would make short runs around the room, 
barking his delight. 

Happy hours, all too short! 

As spring advanced, our Little Blossom 
drooped. Her brain had always been in ad¬ 
vance of her physical development. She had 
never the meaningless stare seen in normal 
babies. Instead, there was a wistful, pensive 
expression as she gazed into the fire or through 
the window, with always a quick dimpling 
smile when either of us spoke to her. There 
was much sickness in town, especially among 
young children. We decided to spend the sum¬ 
mer months at the seashore. A cottage was 
leased, and trunks were packed full of summer 
clothes, draperies, and other joys and comforts. 

When the time came to start, the cry arose,— 



110 


BRUNO 


“Where is Bruno ?” 

No one knew. None remembered seeing him 
since breakfast. It was now half-past ten. 
The train was to go at eleven, and vre were 
three-quarters of a mile from the station! We 
felt utterly lost. It was impossible to leave 
Bruno, and yet we must go. 

Julius looked in all directions, calling and 
whistling. No answer. Our baggage had gone, 
a wagon full of it. The tickets were bought, 
and everything was arranged. 

Julius came in from an unsuccessful search, 
a look of desperation on his face. 

“There’s no help for it,” he said; “we must 
start, Bruno or no Bruno.” 

We locked up the house and set off. As we 
drove along, I kept looking out, hoping to see 
the familiar form come dashing after us, but in 
vain. Julius was to come into town each morn¬ 
ing to the office, returning to us at the seashore 
on the afternoon train. I began to think I 
could not know Bruno’s fate (for I feared 
something serious must have happened) until 
the afternoon of the next day. We had been 
so delayed it was necessary to make all speed. 

We hurried into the station, and there, stand¬ 
ing beside our heap of luggage, one eye for the 






Chasing Crabs and Sea-Birds.— I'agk 111 














































































































BRUNO 


111 


packages and the other on the lookout for us, 
stood Bruno! 

He greeted us with such extravagant delight, 
and we felt so relieved at seeing him, that we 
found no reproaches ready. Besides, although 
he had so delayed us, it was quite evident that 
he had thought we had our hands over-full, 
and that by keeping his eye on the things he 
would be helping us. So he had followed the 
wagon, overlooked the unloading, and evidently 
had kept tally of every package. Our man 
who had driven the wagon was to go on with 
us to help in the transfer at the other end, and 
to make all ready for comfort in the cottage. 
He told us that Bruno had mounted guard over 
him as well as our effects, and while rather over¬ 
doing it, had been quite helpful. 

It is hard to write of the weeks that followed. 

I see Bruno racing up and down the beach 
and swimming out through the breakers, while 
Julius and I sit on either side of a little wicker 
wagon drawn up beyond the reach of the tide, 
watching him. 

I see him chasing crabs and sea-birds, or 
limping up to show us his foot stung by a 
stranded jelly-fish. 

Then—darkness. 



112 


BRUNO 


It is night in a long white-draped room. 

One end of it is lighted by a lamp having a 
rose-colored shade. 

In the middle of the lighted end stands a 
crib. A little white-robed form lies within. 

The pink light so simulates a glow of health 
that the mother, sitting beside the crib, bends 
low, thinking the little breast heaves. 

But no. The waxen cheeks chill her lips. 

Still she bends and gazes on that loved little 
form. 

Bruno lies at the mother’s feet. When she 
moves he rises, looking mournfully into the 
crib, then turns to rest his head on her knee. 

On a lounge, in the end of the room where 
shadows lurk, the father lies asleep, exhausted 
with grief. 

The curtains sway in the open windows, as if 
the room were breathing. All else is still. 

I see all this as if it were a scene in a dream 
or as a picture,—something in which I have no 
part; and yet I feel that my heart throbbed in 
that mother’s bosom. 

I know that after she had sent away all kind 
friends, to watch alone that last night, it was 
literally and truly a “white night” to her. 

She felt neither sorrow nor grief. 



BRUNO 


113 


Yesterday her heart was torn with anguish, 
when those heavenly eyes grew dim with the 
death-glaze. 

To-morrow it will be rent again, when the 
little form is hidden from her in its white 
casket; and again—at that bitterest moment 
Life can give—when the first handful of earth 
makes hollow echo above it. 

But to-night there is the uplifted feeling of 
perfect peace. 

Although it is the third sleepless night, there 
is no thought of weariness. All through the 
short hours she sits and feasts her eyes on the 
angelic face with its look of joy unutterable. 

And Bruno watches with her. 

****** 

The next day Bruno does not ask to join the 
sad procession leaving the cottage. 

He has no thought for self at such a time. 

As it turns the corner, his mournful eyes are 
seen at the window, gazing after his little play¬ 
mate who is being carried away. 

Or does he realize it is only the beautiful 
body they are taking, which was all too frail 
for the bright spirit now flown these two days 
since! 



114 


BRUNO 


CHAPTER XVIII 

GAIN the mother is in the city home. 



No crib stands by the fireplace; no tiny 
garments are spread out to air. All is orderly 
as in the years that now seem so far away. 

She sits with hook or needle. 

The book falls to her knee, the work slips 
to the floor; tears steal down her cheeks. 

Bruno presses near, his head against her 
arm. With his uplifted, pleading eyes, he 
seems to say,— 

“Don’t cry, Judith, please don’t cry.” 

Oh, matchless comforter! 

After a time we notice that Bruno is growing 
old and feeble. 

Do we grieve at this ? Ear from it. We feel 
that life is over for us; our only thought is to 
escape its grasp and join our Little Blossom. 

We could never leave Bruno alone; he would 
grieve himself to death, and meanwhile, per¬ 
haps, be abused as a stupid brute for refusing 
to be comforted. 



BRUNO 


115 


So it is with a feeling of sad resignation that 
we realize how his hold on life is weakening. 
At least he will die in comfort, ministered to 
by his loved ones. 

We sit alone, we three, in the twilight,— 
Julius and I, with Bruno at our feet,—talking 
of the future. We speculate on the Beyond, 
hoping it will not be the conventional Heaven, 
with harps and crowns. 

We long for a sheltered nook, near the Kiver 
of Life, where we and Little Blossom can resume 
the life so happily begun here, going over to 
the Happy Hunting Grounds to get Bruno, and 
to the Cat Heaven for Rebecca and Catsie. 

Then, our family circle complete, we would 
settle down to an eternity of Home. 

Can Heaven itself offer anything sweeter 
than home,—the wedded home, where love 
abides! 

One morning Bruno seemed not to care for 
his breakfast. He sniffed daintily at it, and 
turned away, though I tried to tempt him with 
everything he liked best. 

He rested his head on my knee, looking grate¬ 
fully into my eyes, while his tail waved his 
thanks. 

Then he went to his bed, and lying down 



116 


BRUNO 


upon it, lie fell asleep,—not a short uneasy 
nap, with ears open for every sound, hut a 
deep, dreamless sleep. 

There was a beautiful young fig-tree in our 
lot. Under this his grave was dug. His bed 
was laid in, he on it, with his blanket wrapped 
around him. 

il Arise against thy narrow door of earth, 

And keep the watch for me!” 


THE END 














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I 




























By the Same Author 


THE BLESSED ISLE AND ITS HAPPY 
FAMILIES, thirty-five illustrations from 
Photographs. 

PETER, THE TRAMP; first edition pub¬ 
lished by Animal Protective League, of New 
York, second edition “Made in Florida.” 
Contains also, REBECCA, postscript to 
BRUNO; both illustrated. 

ROMANCE OF OLD LAKE WORTH 
DAYS, illustrated booklet; second printing. 

FLYING BLOSSOM, illustrated booklet. 

THE TALE OF SATAN, illustrated booklet; 
second edition. 

O YOUTH ETERNAL, booklet; third print¬ 
ing. 

WHO SEEKS FINDS, booklet. Fourth 
printing. 


For sale by 

O’Neal-Branch Company, Orlando, Fla. 
Drews, Jacksonville, Florida, 

AND 

FOOTE & DAVIES COMPANY, 
Atlanta. 










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